


Omikuji

by ironlotus



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: AU, Complete, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Love Triangles, Minor Character Death, Raunchy shit, Semi-Canon Divergence?, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, a little angst but it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-01-15 15:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 110,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12323427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironlotus/pseuds/ironlotus
Summary: Every year, Kagome picks an Omikuji fortune on New Year's Eve with the same wish: May this year be the year that brings happiness like no other! But she doesn't get what she's expecting, especially once her fortune starts coming true. Her supervisor and friend passes on. People around her are acting more and more oddly. The world as she knows it gets flipped on its head. This year's fortune couldn't be worse. [[Epilogue is UP! Finally, Complete!!!]]





	1. The year of bad luck

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and I claim none of Takahashi-sensei’s work as my own.

**Omikuji**

Chapter One

The Year of Bad Luck

 

_May this year be the year that brings happiness like no other!_

              It was the same wish every year. But this was the year, she could feel it.

              Opening her eyes, Kagome repeated the wish one last time, before she pulled the mitten-caps off her blue and white wool fingerless gloves and rubbed her chilled fingers together. The time had come. Gingerly, she reached out and picked up long octagonal box of Omikuji fortunes [1], and jostled it to and fro until a slender, numbered dowel slipped out of the bottom.  _Seven_ , she thought.  _My lucky number_. Gently, she pushed the dowel back into the box, and turned to the cabinet of numbered drawers.

              Every year, thousands made the annual New Year’s Hatsumoude pilgrimage to local shrines and temples, to pray, make offerings to the local gods, and to find out their fortunes. Kagome had been doing so since the days of her infancy – living on a shrine, such traditions were a very important part of her life. Over the years she had drawn such fortunes with all kinds of predictions and advice. Much like resolutions, set so eagerly at first, the words of the fortunes would fade from her memory within the span of days or weeks. This never stopped her from believing in them whole-heartedly while they remained in her consciousness, or from anticipating a new year’s fortune with a trembling sort of anticipation.

              As gingerly as she had handled the box, she placed her fingers around the worn wooden knob of the drawer numbered “Seven”, and pulled out a sheet of printed paper, precisely folded to conceal the content. She shut the drawer quietly, and stepped aside to allow the next person to access the drawers. With slow, deliberate steps, she wound her way through the crowd of people gathered and waiting, to find the beginning of the path.

              Kagome tugged her winter hat over her ears, and exhaled, a steamy puff in the frigid air around her. It was cold, the breeze was crisp, and it felt thoroughly of winter. The breeze carried on it the scent of snow – it had been flurrying on and off – and it nipped at her exposed skin. She loved the feeling. Winter was the sign that a new beginning was near. Today – New Year’s Eve– her new beginning was in her very hand.

              Before she could bring herself to open the fortune, however she took one more fortifying breath and looked over at the placard posted on the gate beside her.

_When you draw good fortune, you should not be careless and arrogant._

_Even if bad fortune, have no fear. Try to be modest and gentle._

_ Whether in good or bad fortune, you should tenaciously do your best. _

_You can carve out your own fortune.[2]_

              “Okay,” she uttered aloud, bracing herself. Slowly – ever so slowly – she opened the parchment. She looked past the paper into the air ahead of her until it was completely unfolded. “Okay,” she said again, before letting out a long breath. Then she looked down.

**大凶**

              “Dai-kyou,” she read out on a gasp. The worst of the worst – A Great Curse! She rumpled the paper together and cast her eyes up into the heavens. It took her a moment to collect herself. She walked away from the gate and wormed her way through the temple-goers to seat herself at an empty bench opposite. The bench was cold against the backs of her legs, and she sniffled involuntarily before rubbing her hands against her thighs to help warm them.

              Once more unfolding the fortune she sighed as she began to read. First came the waka poem which was meant to augment the meaning of the fortune:

               _The moon remains_

_its shining now unobscured_

_by leaves on the trees –_

_gone in a storm that has left_

_nothing of autumn behind. [3]_

              She reread the poem three times before letting herself re-read the phrase that had caught her eye when she had first opened her omikuji:  _Your fortune: A Great Curse._ Then, she forged on.

_願事  Your Wish: There will be many hardships._

_待人 An Expected Visitor: He will not come._

_失せ物  A Thing You Have Lost: You will not find it._

_旅立ち Travel: Avoid travel._

_商い Business: Do not be active in any transactions._

_学問 Studies: You will have to work harder._

_争事 Competition: You will lose._

_恋愛 Love: Your love will not be returned._

_病気 Illness: There will be great danger. Be pious._

_縁談 Marriage Proposal: It will not come._

On yet another long outbreath, Kagome carefully folded the fortune in half longwise, three times until it formed a long strip. There was only one thing to do with a fortune like this. She would tie it to one of the pine trees on the grounds, the nearest of which looked like a giant snowball with the quantity of fortunes now fixed to its branches. She would have liked to tie it there for other reasons [4], but such – she huffed slightly – was her luck.

              She stood, and tucked the fortune into her pocket to free her hands as she carefully covered her fingers once more. Again she rubbed them together, brought them to her lips and blew at them, trying to bring sensation back into the numbed appendages.  Sighing again, she turned toward the nearest pine.

              “Kagome!” Souta pushed his way out from the crowd of people to her left, cheeks pink, eyes glittering and voice slightly breathless. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

              “Souta!” She smiled warmly at her younger brother. “What’s up?”

              “You have to come!” He said, and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her back through the throng toward the main house.

              Whatever it was that he had distracted her for proved to be nothing of consequence, but so diverting that she completely forgot about the folded “Great Curse” fortune in her coat pocket, which she had been so determined to be rid of. By the time she remembered, it was the next morning.

              And it was too late.

              Her Year of Bad Luck had begun.

_-+-_

AN: There it is! The prologue is complete. Promise that this won’t be a footnote heavy fic, but for this first chapter there’s a little that needs explaining…

[1] Omikuji, roughly meaning Sacred Lottery, is a tradition in Japan for drawing fortunes (you can do this year round or on Hatsumoude, the first Shinto Shrine Visit of the new year). These contain a general blessing ranging from Great Blessing to Ending Small Blessing on the positive side, and Curse to Great Curse on the negative, followed by fortunes for specific aspects of a person’s life. Here's a youtube vid of someone drawing one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEly7BdOmEY

[2] This text was taken word-for-word from an English-language translation at the bottom of a real Omikuji from the Sensouji Temple. I thought the translation was so charming that I didn't bother fixing it up.

[3] This waka is an English translation of a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable poem by Tonna, which I am excerpting from the book Just Living: Poems and Prose by the Japanese Monk Tonna, by Steven D. Carter.

[4] In case of a good fortune, the bearer can either keep the paper for luck, or tie it on a pine tree or wires to see if it will increase the luck. For bad fortunes, people usually tie these up on a pine tree or wires, in hopes that the bad fortune will be attracted to the paper slip, rather than the person who drew the fortune. Here, Kagome is wishing she could tie up her slip in expectation of increased good fortune, but since she drew bad luck, she can only tie it up to try and avoid the bad fortune.

 


	2. 病気 Illness: There will be great danger. Be pious.

**Omikuji**

Chapter Two

_病気 Illness: There will be great danger. Be pious._

              The sound that startled her brain into consciousness was the bright chirping of her ringtone. Kagome fumbled with the vibrating device, still half asleep, and answered the call without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

              “Kagome-chan, it’s Natsuko.”

              “Natsuko-san!” Kagome bolted upright in bed, suddenly awake. As an undergraduate student of Japanese history, Kagome had spent a lot of time cultivating a strong relationship with her favorite professor – Chiaki-sensei, who also taught graduate and doctorate level courses. Their bond was more than just of a teacher and a student. He was a mentor, a friend. And Natsuko Chiaki, his wife, was equally as dear. The call though was unexpected. “Is anything the matter?”

              “Oh, Kagome-chan, I hardly know what to say,” Natsuko said, a patently distraught edge bringing brittleness into her voice. “It’s Kenichi. He’s just been admitted to the hospital.”

              “Oh no! What happened?” Now moving off the bed, Kagome winced briefly at the chill in her toes when her feet touched the floor. Even the cold would not put her off from preparing for a mad dash to clothe herself and rush over to Natusko-san and Chiaki-sensei’s side.

              “It’s – it sounds so silly,” Natsuko murmured. “It’s the flu. He spiked a fever last night and it didn’t break by morning. I’m very worried for him.”

              The flu? Kagome breathed easier. Just the flu. “I’m so sorry, Natsuko-san. Is there anything I can do to help? Can I bring you anything?” She sat back down on the edge of the bed, glancing at the clock. 8AM. Still early.

              “No – it’s nothing urgent. He was confused and agitated earlier, but now he’s out like a light. I’m heading home myself to get a shower and a nap. I just know he’d be comforted if he saw you, when he wakes up.” This statement, though designed to downplay the severity of the illness, was said in such a stilted, tense manner, that Kagome took little comfort from it.

              The remainder of their conversation was short. After she hung up, Kagome sat in place and considered. Natsuko-san said she would text her when Chiaki-sensei woke up, and then she would go and visit. There would be plenty of time to do other things before that, though, apparently. So, after completing her morning routine, and dressing snugly in a soft wool pullover and jeans, Kagome made her way into the yellow-painted kitchen of the 2LDK [1] apartment she shared with her best friend Sango, and started a pot of coffee. She would fill her travel mug and then head off to campus.

              Though she wasn’t technically a graduate student  _yet_  – it was only early March and the new semester hadn’t started – she had already received reading lists from a few of the classes she had signed up for, and she was determined to get a head start. Her love of history had begun early on in her education. She was fascinated by the almost fairy-tale quality of a lot of the lore and legends of Japan, and felt a stirring of nationalistic pride when she reflected that  _she_  was cut from the same cloth as the heroes and heroines of those stories. Though there turned out to be more to know – as there always is when one advances in their studies – that was not so rose-colored and wonderful, Kagome still felt an unbridled passion for the subject, and had decided to pursue a Master’s Degree in the field.

              The sharp smell of the percolating coffee teased at her taste buds as she packed her backpack.  _Better take a lunch too_ , she decided, knowing that she’d likely spend more than a few hours at the library.

              “What’s for breakfast?”

              Kagome yelped. Familiar it may have been but the voice was certainly unexpected. “Miroku!” She glared at him but was pleased to see that this time, at least, he was fully dressed. “Sango still sleeping?”

              “She’s in the shower,” he answered, and took an appreciated whiff of the coffee. “I’m taking her out for dinner tonight. You wanna come?” A devilish waggle of his eyebrows belied his true intentions.

              She couldn’t help but laugh. Miroku, despite his posturing, was as faithful as could be. “I’m good, thanks,” she declined politely. “Want a cup of coffee to warm you up?”

              He smiled his agreement and Kagome poured him a cup. There was a nip in the air still, and she appreciated the warm tingle in her fingers as she passed him the mug. After an appreciative sip, he addressed her. “You off to the stacks again today?”

              She hummed in response and went back to preparing her lunch. For a while, they sat in companionable silence, until Sango came into the room. Sango was beautiful, with long, straight black hair and wide, gorgeous brown eyes. She was the kind of person other women loved to hate – smart, athletic, pretty, and kind. She was also a law student, preparing to work in the field of pediatric law and advocacy, something she was extremely passionate about. Sango had met Miroku at the beginning of their senior year in college, and they’d been dating on and off since.

              “I hear you have a hot date tonight,” Kagome teased.

              “First I’ve heard of it,” Sango said. “But I  _am_  going out with Miroku tonight.”

              They laughed, and Miroku half-heartedly protested, stifling a chuckle himself.

              Within the space of an hour, Kagome found herself happily and warmly situated in her favorite corner of the library. She had collected five of ten books on the reading list, and was taking her time to flip through them to decide if they were going to be worth purchasing for her personal library. The first one was a red-covered tome, perhaps a thousand pages in length, with copies of what appeared to be hundreds of primary sources [2] from the Sengoku Jidai[3]. This one would be a keeper for sure.

              Thus ensconced in a plush brown leather armchair, Kagome passed several hours. It was nearly noon when she set aside the fifth book and headed back up to the stacks to locate the second set of books. The smell of  _old books_  grew increasingly more pungent as she made her way to the south wing of the library’s third story. There was less natural lighting here, and the fluorescents above let out a steady thrum that she usually found grating, but now sounded like the movement of the waves underwater.

              Feeling completely at peace, she wound through the aisles of books until she reached the one she was looking for. Finger brushing lightly along the shelves as she searched for the right Dewey decimal, Kagome hummed a tuneless melody. Finally, there it was. She pulled the book out, and studied the cover absently. She smiled softly, and looked up.

              From the gap in the shelf that had formerly housed the volume in her hands, a pair of golden eyes, like the color of yellow amber, studied her. Startled, she blinked, and a small ‘Ah’ escaped her lips. They eyes on the other side of the shelf slid away from her, and then disappeared as their owner moved on.

              Kagome hurried to the end of the aisle, and peered around the corner, hoping to espy the owner of that incisive gaze. But aside from the flickering fluorescent lights and rows and rows of books, there was nothing there.

-+-

              Two days passed. She kept meaning to visit Chiaki-sensei, but the timing always seemed wrong. By the end of the third day, Natsuko-san seemed to have stopped responding to text messages. This is what finally made Kagome feel the urgency of a visit.

              There was no reason he should still be hospitalized for the flu.

              But as she was preparing to leave for the hospital the morning of the fourth day, her phone rang. It was an unknown number. A feeling of foreboding arose in her throat, but she picked up regardless.

              After her greeting, came a soft, subdued male voice. “Hello, this is Chiaki Kengo, is Higurashi-san available?”

              Already, she knew what he would say. It was the worst possible news. At the end of the school year, early in January, Chiaki-sensei had gotten sick. Since then, he had been weaker than usual, with a wheeze in his breathing that had never been there before. And now, this. Influenza. It should have been no big deal. But Chiaki-sensei was older, and not in the best of health. He had passed away. Just last night, Kengo-san said. He was calling to ask her to come to the wake.

              After his call, it took Kagome a good half an hour to stop crying and get her thoughts together. Poor Natsuko-san. They had been married for 60 years, and she had never seen a couple so in love. Listless, Kagome stayed in her room the remainder of the day. She cried on and off. She considered calling Natsuko-san and realized that it would serve to comfort only one them, and not the one that really needed the comfort just now.

              Aimlessly, Kagome drifted into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee – cold by now – with which she filled  a mug along with cream and one sugar, and put it thoughtlessly to her lips. The wake was on Friday, two days from now, and she was determined to attend. She would have to call her mother to see if her black dress was clean and in good repair.   

              “Kagome! Have you seen my green sweater?” Sango called out from her bedroom, down the hall to the left of the kitchen.

              Kagome glanced around the yellow-painted kitchen and, seeing nothing, replied in kind. “No, sorry. Just wear the red one,” she advised, and stood to make her way to her friend and room-mate’s half of the apartment. “Miroku loves you in red.”

              “Miroku loves me in the red sweater,” Sango replied, popping her head out of her bedroom door, “because the neckline is so low-cut.”

              “And yet, that doesn’t seem to stop you from wearing it.” Kagome remarked drily, and took another drink from her coffee.

              Sango laughed, as she reached for said sweater and held it in front of herself in the mirror. “What can I say? I like getting laid.” She nodded to herself, approving her reflection, and tugged the scoop-necked top over her head.

              Kagome, still leaning in the doorway, admired her friend. “Where are you guys going tonight?”

              Sango turned this way and that, checking herself out once more before she turned to her friend. “We’re doing dinner and a little Netflix and chill at his place.” She winked, earning a knowing chuckle. “You off to the library again?”

              “Yeah,” Kagome mumbled, “Maybe.”

              “Maybe?” Sango situated herself in front of her closet, looking at her shoes.

              “Chiaki-sensei passed away,” She whispered. “His son called this morning.”

              “Oh my god,” breathed Sango, truly looking at Kagome for the first time to see the puffiness in her cheeks and the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She immediately turned from her closet and stepped forward to wrap her arms around her friend. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

              “Hasn’t really sunk in yet.” She returned the warm embrace and buried her head into Sango’s shoulder. “The wake is on Friday.”

              Sango pulled away and looked Kagome in the eyes. “You’re going?” Kagome nodded. “You should go to the library, Kagome. I know you. If you don’t go, you’ll just feel worse.”

              She was right, of course. Moping all day hadn’t helped. The distraction of completing her work would give her the time she needed to process this horrible news. If she didn’t go to do her work, she would feel guilty on top of mournful, and have no way to deal with her feelings. She nodded, and met Sango’s concerned look with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

              “Call me if you need me to come home.”

              “And have you answer the phone mid-coitus?” Kagome laughed. “I’d rather not.” But she met Sango’s yet-again serious gaze before murmuring her assent. “If I need you, I’ll call.”

              It wasn’t long before both Sango and Kagome were gone. They lived in an apartment in an off-campus building that was inhabited mostly by graduate students from their university, partially because of the convenient distance from school as well as easy subway access. Despite the chill, Kagome had opted to walk rather than bike to school this evening. It was a safe, clean neighborhood, and she was never worried about returning in the dark.

              Wearing her favorite blue anorak jacket, and a massive cream-colored, hand-knit scarf wrapped around her neck and over her nose, she began the trek to campus. Six blocks later, her toes were numb in her boots, and her fingers were dug deeply into her pockets. By the time she reached the library, her ears were bright red, and she was crying again.

              She collected herself in the lobby of the library before truly entering the building, readying to steel her heart and focus on her work. In the few moments that it took for her to reach the elevators, she was mostly composed.

              She fiddled with her phone as she waited for the elevator to come down. When it dinged, she stepped forward, eyes still on her screen, and nearly bumped into a person stepping off the elevator. Eyes level with a broad chest clothed in a black pea coat, Kagome put out her hands to steady herself. “I’m so sorry," she said, as she looked up.

              “Hn,” came the deep, resonant timbre of his voice as blue eyes met gold. She felt the feather light touch of his hand to her elbow, before he pulled away and walked past her, silvery white hair trailing behind him like a silken train.

              Kagome watched for a moment, and the ding of the elevator doors beginning to close snapped her back into attention. She scurried in before they shut, and watched until the last second before his silhouette disappeared.

-+-

              The wake was a somber affair. The Buddhist priest’s voice still echoed in her ears from his chanting of a selection from the sutra. She had offered her condolence money – a meager amount, but she was a student – and offered incense three times to the incense urn in front of Chiaki-sensei’s body. Kagome went through the motions somberly, and felt quite fatigued by the end of the day. The day of the third tsuya [4] there was a reception prepared, and many of the guests were milling around, talking in subdued tones about Chiaki-sensei.

              An elderly man, with long moustaches in a stark shade of white, and large, bug-like eyes approached her as she stood at the refreshment table pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Higurashi-kun [5], how are you holding up?”

              “Myouga-sensei,” She greeted him with a bow. Myouga-sensei was one of the tenured professors, who had been at her university since time immemorial, it seemed. He always seemed to know all of the students by name, whether he had taught them or not, and always had a kind word or a moment to spare for anyone in need of it. “I’m heartbroken.”

              He regarded her for a moment, respecting the truth in her reply. “I know that you were close.” She nodded and he considered for a moment. “I suppose you’ll hear of it in the mail soon enough, but I wanted to let you know that we’ve assigned you an academic advisor for your first year.”

              She had wondered who would take Chiaki-sensei’s place. It did feel wrong to speak about it though.

              He picked up on the uncertainty in her face, and changed the subject. They spoke at length about their memories, and he led her away from the refreshments, over to a smaller living room where more of Chiaki-sensei’s academic connections were mingling. There, he left her, having spotted a professor emeritus with whom he was good friends. Kagome sighed into her coffee and leaned against one of the walls.

              “Excuse me, miss,” came a voice to her left. A handsome young man, with dark brown hair in a cropped cut and big, dark eyes was standing next to her, a shy smile on his face. He introduced himself as Akitoki Hojo, and she realized they had been in several classes together throughout their undergrad. 

              “From what I understand, they’re bringing someone in to fill in for the year,” Hojo informed her. Apparently an associate professor named Myouji Naraku had been hired onto the staff sometime in the last week, who had been working previously at a smaller university in Nagoya. He was also taking over the instruction of one of her classes, which Chiaki-sensei had taught for the last forty years. Kagome took this information with interest if not excitement, and still a little feeling of discomfort.

              Some fifteen minutes of conversation later, Kagome’s attention was caught by a tall, silver-haired figure making its way across the room. It took less than a second to realize it was the man from the library. His hair was tied back in a long, low pony-tail that ended near his waist, and his black suit was cut close to the body revealing a lithe form beneath. He turned, and she saw the yellow lamp-light reflecting in those amber-colored eyes.

              Hojo noticed her distraction, and turned to decipher the new object of her attention. “Ah, that’s Sesshoumaru Aotsuki,” he pronounced, somewhat smug that he could name him so easily.

              “Who is he?” She asked, eyes still on the golden-eyed stranger.

              “You didn’t know? Aotsuki-sensei is an author, he writes a lot of pop history books and has won a couple of accolades for making history more accessible and interesting for the masses. He’s a guest lecturer this year. You didn’t sign up for his classes?”

              Kagome’s eyebrows shot up but she shook her head, still unable to keep from staring at the man across the room. Kagome watched as the person speaking to Sesshoumaru gave a small bow and moved away. Sesshoumaru looked up then, and as though magnetized, their gazes met and locked. Kagome colored prettily, but couldn’t look away.

              “You know, Higurashi, I was thinking we could meet for coffee sometime, what do you think?”

              Startled, she broke eye contact with Sesshoumaru and looked up at the handsome young man before her. Before she could think through things, she agreed. They exchanged numbers, and in the span of the next few minutes, Hojo found his attention usurped by another, and sauntered away.

              Kagome wandered the room, her eyes coming back to the figure of the man from the library more than once. And more than once, their eyes met. On the fifth of such occasions, when their gazes locked, he stood and a long but easy stride, crossed the room to stop directly in front of her.

              “Ah,” She paused and bowed, introducing herself. “My name is Kagome Higurashi. Thank you for your help the other day.”

              “Help?” His smooth voice questioned.

              “Keeping me from falling,” she said, and realized that it might be a fanciful interpretation of the event as it had actually happened.

              He made a small humming sound, ‘hn’, and introduced himself in kind. “Were you a student of Chiaki-san’s?”

              She replied in the affirmative, her gaze never straying far from his perfectly formed face, all smooth pale skin and shining amber eyes. “I always considered him something of a father figure,” she said.

              “He was much the same to me – we collaborated on a number of projects early in my career. It was he who encouraged me to try my hand at writing.” In this fashion, the next several moments were spent reminiscing about their friend. “Are you continuing your studies, perhaps?”

              “Yes,” she replied. “Next semester is my first as a graduate student at Toudai. I hear you’re to be lecturing there as well.”

              “Hn,” came his affirmative response. He studied her for a moment, and the effect sent a tingle into her toes. “You’re not enrolled in my class, Higurashi-kun?”

              “No,” she said, voice breathier than intended.

              “That’s just as well.” The sound of someone calling his name registered briefly, and Sesshoumaru turned to greet the interloper. With a last look at Kagome, he said, “It was a pleasure. If you will excuse me,” and he walked away.

              Kagome rubbed her sweaty palms on her dress over her thighs, then touched her fingers to her equally warm cheeks. With a last fleeting look in his direction, she turned away as well and headed for the door. 

             

-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: There we have it!   
> Footnotes…  
> [1] 2LDK: Stands for 2-bedroom, Living, Dining, Kitchen.  
> [2] In History a primary source is an artifact, a document, or other source of information that was created at the time under study.  
> [3] The Sengoku Jidai (aka Warring States, or Age of Civil War period) ran from roughly 1467 through 1600, and is a period in Japanese History, known for social upheaval, political intrigue and near-constant military conflict. It’s also the time period in which Inuyasha is set.  
> [4] Tsuya is Japanese for wake—there are usually several memorials held over the course of several days. I’m not too well versed in this, having never been to one in the whole of my time in Japan, so I apologize if I got any of the details wrong.  
> [5] -Kun is a typical ending for teachers to use with their students.


	3. 待人 An Expected Visitor: He will not come

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Three

_待人 An Expected Visitor: He will not come._

              Kagome pulled her sweater tighter around her and sank a little deeper into the plush leather chair. March had ended and school hard started. It had warmed up outside, but inside the library it was always cold. She let the top of her book drop over her nose, and breathed in deep of the scent of its yellowed pages. So comforting. After another long breath, she closed her eyes. She tried to imagine her upcoming meeting, but her mind was uncharacteristically blank. She glanced at her watch. “Okay,” she mumbled to herself, “time to go.”

              It didn’t escape her that she shouldn’t be feeling this kind of anxiety for something as simple as meeting with her advisor. Had it been Chiaki-sensei she would have made her way to the office early, full of excited anticipation. But Naraku-sensei was… difficult to deal with. When she had first met him, she found his appearance attractive if not his personality, but the more she came to know him, the more she could perceive something off about him. Something in the way he looked at her, or maybe how his eyes never seemed to reflect any emotion. Given that Kagome wore all her emotions on her sleeve, she just wasn’t sure how to deal with the man.

              Gathering her materials and replacing them carefully in her bookbag took less than a minute. Getting to the front door of the library would take another. From the library to the History Department’s staff offices, it took about four minutes. If she walked  _really_  slowly, she could be just a few minutes late to her meeting.

              Once outside, the slightly humid spring air felt heavy in her lungs. But Kagome was unable to get bogged down in her trepidation regarding the meeting – her phone rang. She checked the called ID. Hojo-kun.

              “Hello, Hojo-kun?”

              His bright voice responded in kind. “Hey. You holding up okay after last night?”

              Her cheeks colored. Last night had been their third date. She might have gotten a little tipsy. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?” Right to left, she scanned the street for oncoming cars and then crossed it, her blue ballet flats making a soft pattering sound as she sped across the pavement.

              “Never better. Hey, I was wondering if you were free again – maybe tomorrow?” 

              “Oh, um. Let me check.” This was a surprise. Hojo-kun seemed to run a little hot and cold. He had called her the day after they met to arrange a date. They had gone out together, and before he dropped her off he asked if they could meet again. After the second date, for the span of two and a half weeks she didn’t hear a word from him until he called her to ask her out again last night. Regardless, her calendar was clear. “Sure, yeah, I’m free after seven.”

              “Great!” His pitch increased, he sounded excited. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

              Quick pleasantries, then the call ended just as Kagome found herself in front of Naraku-sensei’s door. Perfectly on time. Frowning, Kagome smoothed the ivory cotton of her skirt, and screwed up her courage. Hand trembling slightly, she put her hand onto the copper doorknob and tried it. But the knob only jiggled – it was locked. She looked at the bottom of the door. No light peeping out from underneath. Did he forget about their appointment?

              “Naraku-sensei will be running a little late.”

              The smooth tones of Sesshoumaru’s –  _no, Aotsuki-sensei’s_  – voice washed over her from just over her shoulder, and gooseflesh rose on the back of her neck as a pleasant shiver coursed down her spine. She turned around and leaned against the door, smiling at him genuinely. “Aotsuki-sensei,” she greeted him. “Do you know how late he’ll be?” There was the ten-minute rule to consider, and this wasn’t a mandatory meeting. She could just leave if he was going to be that long.

              “Hm.” He considered, tilting his wrist to study his watch. “Another five minutes I should imagine. Myouga-sensei is” – he seemed to struggle for the right word – “borrowing his ear”.

              Maybe the relief showed too easily on her face, because she could swear that a glimmer of amusement flickered behind his eyes despite Aotsuki-sensei’s otherwise stoic expression. She averted her eyes, focusing intensely on the tips of his polished shoes, and colored in her embarrassment. “Thank you for the warning.”

              “You seem pleased at the delay, Higurashi-kun.” To her, this statement sounded more like ' _You’re pretty obvious about not wanting to meet him'_.

              “Well…” She dragged her eyes up from his shoes, over the long, tailored legs of his grey suit pants, up over her his white button-down shirt, sleeves folded up to his forearms, and back to his face. The corners of her lips tugged downward. “It’s not a mandatory meeting. He had some reading recommendations for me and asked that I come in.”

              Now  _his_  lips were turning down at the corners. “Hn.”

              “If he misses I can just ask him to email me,” she said flippantly, and her eyes widened. She hadn’t meant to be so plain about her reluctance to see him. This was one of Aotsuki-sensei’s peers, and a professor. She needed to be more respectful. “Ah – I’m sorry.”

              “No need to apologize,” he murmured, and the sound of footsteps caused them both to startle and turn. A student had rounded the corner and was walking down the hall toward them, head down, attention fixed the screen of their phone.

              Kagome looked back up at the man before her and smiled awkwardly. Time for a new subject. “Is your class going well?”

              He seemed not to have heard her. “Perhaps you might do me a favor, Higurashi-kun, and follow me.” Something about his lips changed and his expression appeared abstracted. Without another word, Sesshoumaru pivoted and headed down the hallway, his long strides quickly putting distance between them, silver pony-tail swaying in his wake.

              Kagome blinked and rushed to catch up, falling into step behind him. Four doors down, Sesshoumaru stopped at another office – this one with a patterned glass pane inset in the door. He unlocked it, flipped on the light and held the door open for her to precede him into the room. Not a large office but it was big enough for a wall-to-wall bookshelf on the left, a U-shaped desk in the rear and two comfortable-looking, red-upholstered chairs before it. There was a small window above the desk on the back wall, which allowed in a surprising amount of light.

              What the room lacked in personal touches, it made up for in comfort. There was a coffee machine by the window with a fresh pot brewing. Hundreds of books, some newer but most ancient crammed onto the shelves, transporting her to her favorite corner of the library’s third floor. A small potted plant, standing proudly at attention by the window, seemed to bring a little life and color into the room. As she sat, the chair seemed to hug her into it.

              Sesshoumaru closed the door behind her and made his way to the desk. “If you would be so kind, I have some papers for Kiyohara-sensei.” The desktop was immaculate. Aotsuki-sensei appeared to be a very orderly man. He pulled a manilla envelope out of an outbox tray and handed it expectantly to her. “I will alert Naraku-sensei as to the reason for your absence.”

              She took the folder from his hands. Their fingers brushed and her skin tingled. “Thank you, Aotsuki-sensei.”

              “Hn.” He settled himself into his chair, and turned on his computer screen.

              Kagome smiled softly. She studied him a moment longer before softly excusing herself to make her delivery. That was very kind of him. As it happened, she did not bump into Naraku-sensei on her way through the building to Kiyohara-sensei’s office, or as she made her way back outside. Retracing her steps, she crossed the campus back to the library. Settling into a computer terminal, Kagome opened the library catalog and began a book search.

              She skipped the query box for book title, and with a happy little grin clicked the query box for author.  _A-o-t-s-u-k-i,_ she typed the name out slowly, and with an immense amount of satisfaction, clicked “search”.

-+-

              “Mmmm… go with the blue one.” Sango tapped her chin, frown deepening. “No, no. The green one.”

              Kagome held first the blue cardigan up, then the green, studying her reflection. “I think you’re right. Green it is.”

              Sango whooped in triumph and rolled onto her back on Kagome’s bed, sprawling out in its center. “I can’t believe you’re going out with him again. Wasn’t he a total flake just a little bit ago?” She huffed and her bangs blew upward over her forehead.

              “He was,” Kagome agreed, slipping the cardigan off the hanger. “I don’t have any expectations of this going anywhere, Sango. But it’s nice to go out a little every now and then. You’re lucky you have Miroku.”

              “That dog? Please!” Sango flipped over again and looked at her roommate with look of exasperation. “He had his hands all over Haruka-chan when we all went out on Friday. And she was just  _gobbling it up_.” Kagome opted not to comment and Sango settled her head on top of her hands, watching as Kagome dressed. “I think it’s gotta be over this time. For real.”

              At this, Kagome did opt to comment. “ _This time_  for real, the way last time was for real?” Sango began to protest but Kagome forged on. “If Miroku is misbehaving, it’s because he doesn’t fear the consequences. Mom always said men are like grapes – they need a good stomping so that they can turn into a fine wine.” She smiled. “If you do break up with him, just make sure that you don’t tell him that ' _this time it’s for real'_ , okay? Or he won’t take you seriously.”

              “Fear the consequences… huh.” Sango closed her eyes and considered.

              Kagome smiled. “How do I look?” She pirouetted and the skirt of her floral-printed dress flared out prettily.

              “Smokin’ hot,” was the verdict. “Are you gonna get laid tonight, do you think?”

              The doorbell rang, and Kagome ran off to answer it, laughing the whole way, but never answering. Hojo was precisely on time, and appeared to have taken some care in dressing himself as well. She opened the passenger door to his car and settled herself in the worn seat, and he drove off in the direction of  _La Fenêtre_ , a hip new French restaurant that she had been dying to try.

              They sat at a round corner table with a crisp white tablecloth and modern silverware, their chairs at an angle to each other and to the stunning views outside the North-facing window, which was perched over a small park pond, city lights sparkling in the distance. The menu was elegant but not extravagant, and privately, Kagome was impressed by the lengths Hojo-kun had gone to in taking her to such a  _date-like_  place.

              Their conversation was natural and energetic as they studied the menus, nibbled on an assortment of French breads, and sipped their red wine. “This place is amazing,” Kagome sighed contentedly as her entrée was set before her: _beef bourguignon_ , a delicious beef stew made in a red wine sauce, steaming and tantalizing her taste buds.

              “If you like this place,” Hojo said enthusiastically, eyeing his own meal, “we should go to Boursin next. It’s a little less ritzy but their food is number one in my book.” She agreed immediately and he offered up a date. “How’s Friday at six sound? I’ll pick you up.”

              “Works for me. Would you be okay picking me up at the library? I have a study group until right around then.” He agreed, and she took her first bite. The tender beef melted in her mouth and she closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Aren’t you awfully busy to be going out so much?” She teased.

              His groan in response was comically exaggerated. “It’s awful. You’re lucky you didn’t sign up for Aotsuki-sensei’s class, Higurashi.”

              “Oh?” Interest piqued, she set down her fork and looked at Hojo in earnest. “What was the topic, again?”

              “Modern representations of historical events, and propaganda. Total nightmare. I thought it would be a lot of film-watching and commentary, but he expects us to have the movies watched and he assigns like forty different articles each week, and it’s  _ridiculous_  how detailed he gets about them despite assigning so much.”

              “Not an easy A, huh?” She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.

              “He’s an ogre. A demon. He grades papers like they killed his mother.”

              Kagome laughed in surprise. From the few times she had met Aotsuki-sensei, she had thought him dispassionate but thoughtful. How novel to imagine him as some ruthless tyrant.

              Hojo delighted her with tales from the lectures for a little longer before the conversation changed course, and Kagome found herself wishing she had signed up for that class instead of Kusashio-sensei’s elective course on Japanese Art History. After a satisfying meal, where they had lingered over their desserts, Hojo drove her home and walked with her to the front door.

              He smelled nice, like clean laundry, and she smiled up at him as he put his hands on her upper arms, drawing her a little closer to his chest. “So I’ll see you Friday at six?” Kagome nodded, and Hojo pulled her closer, lowering his head to touch his lips to hers.

              His tongue reached out almost as soon as the kiss began, and began a frenzied dance in her mouth. She kissed him back gently, trying to encourage him to take it a bit easy, and eventually, their lips parted. He looked down at her, and took a slow step back. “Good night, Higurashi.”

              “Good night, Hojo-kun.” She gave him a shy grin and let herself into the house. Humming contentedly to herself as she got ready for bed, she reflected on their date. Conversation was easy and friendly, and he certainly seemed interested. So he wasn’t the best kisser. But that could be improved.

-+-

              She didn’t hear much from Hojo over the next several days – he seemed busy – but he always replied to her texts, even if belatedly, which was a marked improvement over the radio silence she had received several weeks ago. On that Friday morning, she texted to confirm that he was still picking her up at the library that evening, and he replied with a “yeah”.

              Kagome was excited about the date. She had been serious when she told Sango that she had no expectations of a committed relationship. But she enjoyed whatever attention he gave her, and he was good company. When they were in person, at least. He lacked skill when it came to text message communication.

              She dressed thoughtfully in the morning, choosing a pair of patterned tights and an oversized, cream colored sweater-dress with an off-the-shoulder, folded-over neckline that she felt made her look diminutive and cute. She tucked her feet into her knee-high black leather boots, donned her wine-colored spring jacket, and was out the door. Her first class at eight in the morning was Kusashio-sensei’s art history lecture: an exercise in torment. In a dark, theater-like room, they flipped through slides of ancient works, listening to the droning, lullaby-like voice of their instructor, and struggling to maintain wakefulness.

              Afterwards, she had a two-hour break before her next two classes. Then, a short break for lunch before Naraku-sensei’s Friday afternoon lecture which ended by three o’clock. Chiaki-sensei had always split this class into two shorter lectures on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but that of course had changed when he passed. Naraku-sensei seemed oblivious to the suffering and the waning attention of his students during the two-and-a-half-hour long block.

              Normally a front-row student, Kagome settled herself in the back of the room near the door, pulled out her laptop, and sank down into her seat. Naraku-sensei tended to make a grand entrance five minutes after the bell rang, and she found that if he didn’t see her as he came in, he looked in her direction far less, and she was more than happy to avoid being the object of his expressionless staring. True to form, his lecture was long-winded and his delivery flat. He did seem to hone in on her once or twice, but she slouched further into her seat to avoid eye-contact. When the bell rang, she was the first person out the door.

              At the library she met with three girls from her Medieval Japanese History seminar. She had known Ayumi, Yuka, and Eri from their undergraduate classes together, and the four of them already had an established routine for their study groups. This first meeting was spent comparing and combining notes in preparation for creating a study guide. For the span of two and a half hours, they worked silently, then original copies of notes were returned, and summary sheets copied and distributed.

              “Kagome-chan, did you want a ride home?” Eri offered as she tucked her photocopies into a bright green folder, and into her backpack.

              “No, thanks, Eri-chan,” she smiled. “I have a date.”

              “A daaaate?” Ayumi jibed. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

              She considered whether to give the girls details, and then decided it didn’t matter. “Ahh—maybe you know him. Akitoki Hojo. It’s nothing serious.”

              “Hojo-kun, hmm…” Yuka trailed off, tapping her chin in consideration. “We’re in Aotsuki-sensei’s class together. He doesn’t really seem like your type, Kagome-chan.”

              “Like I said, it’s nothing serious.”

              “Well, have fun anyway,” Ayumi said, and took Yuka’s hand, tugging her away from the table. “You have a little time to kill. Want us to keep you company?”

              Kagome laughed. “If I’m going to be here I might as well get work done,” she replied sweetly. “You guys go and have fun.” The two said their farewells and ran off, hands still clasped, but Eri lingered behind. “Something the matter, Eri-chan?”

              “I know you said it’s nothing serious,” she started slowly. “But be careful with Hojo-kun.”

              “Careful? Why?” Kagome sat back down and began pulling materials for next week’s assignments from her bag.

              “It’s just a feeling, but… I knew Hojo-kun from before, we went to high school together. He has this ex-girlfriend from back then – she had a lot of chronic illnesses and he was obsessed with taking care of her. Turns out she ended up breaking it off with him because she fell in love with one of the nurses at her hospital. He didn’t take it well. I know it’s been a few years, but… I don’t know.” She looked at Kagome apologetically. “He’s gone out with girls before to try and make his ex jealous.”

              Kagome was frowning as she considered Eri’s advice, but she thanked her for the heads up, and after exchanging goodbyes, Eri left. It didn’t hurt her to know that she might just be a tool in his quest to reunite with his ex-girlfriend, but it certainly took a lot of pleasure out of the prospect of meeting with him tonight.

               _Well_. She set all of that aside as she turned to her assignments for the next half-hour, before heading to the library’s front doors to await her date. There was a cushioned bench by the library’s front window, and she took a seat, smoothed her skirt, and then picked up her cellphone. 6:01. She scrolled through her social media accounts, a small sting of humiliation rising in her throat as the minutes passed. At 6:10, she texted him.

               _We said 6:00 pm tonight, right?_

              His response was nearly instantaneous. He apologized for his tardiness and said he was delayed but on his way, and would be there in about fifteen more minutes.

              Somewhat mollified, Kagome leaned back against the window and watched the passersby, mind blank. Absently she fiddled with her necklace – and heirloom and the only remembrance she had of her father – a pink crystal bauble the size of a 1-yen coin, which seemed to shine with some inner light, stung on a white gold chain. She tucked it under the neckline of her sweater dress, and looked at her watch.

              6:30.

              She texted him again.

              At 6:45, he texted back.  _Sorry_ , the message read.  _Something came up. I’ll make it up to you later_.

              She didn’t dignify this with a reply. Instead, frowning severely, she tucked her phone into her purse and stood.

              “You’re still here,” came a voice from her left. She recognized it instantly, and her stomach flip-flopped.  _Aotsuki-sensei_.

              “Still?” She asked, facing him. She couldn’t help but be fascinated with the man. He was gorgeous, and he had been kind to her. He was also something of a genius, and a brilliant author. Kagome had borrowed two of his books after he had rescued her from meeting with Naraku-sensei, and had read them cover-to-cover, and still her appetite for his writing was unsatisfied.

              “I arrived here around 6,” he said, and indicated that she had not moved much in the interim.

              “Ah,” she said, and face burning with embarrassment, continued “I got stood up?” His  expression seemed to expect more information, so she added. “One of your students.” At this his eyebrow raised slightly. “Hojo is the last name.”

              “Hojo.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then he scoffed, face contorting into a mask of haughty rejection. “Useless trash,” he said dismissively. “Writing style and comprehension of a 3rd grader.”

              Her eyebrows flew up into her hairline and she let loose a surprised laugh. “Thank you,” she murmured. Was this the ogre that Hojo had referred to?

              He hummed, apparently approving of her response. “Go home, Higurashi-kun.”

              She nodded quickly, shouldering her bag. “Thank you, Aotsuki-sensei.”

              She made to move but couldn’t when she noticed the way he was looking at her. His lips were in a soft line, brows drawn down slightly, thoughtful. She blushed, and he looked away. “Good night,” she mumbled, and took off. She didn’t look back to see, but somehow she could still feel his eyes boring into her back.

                

_-+-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  AN: *Shivers* there’s nothing that turns me off as much as a person who doesn’t know how to kiss!


	4. 学問   Studies: You will have to work harder: Part I

**Omikuji**

Chapter Four

_学問   Studies: You will have to work harder: Part I_

              The sound of the electric stapler was like a shotgun blast in the silence of the library. Kagome immediately ducked her head, shoved the stapled papers into a manila folder and distanced herself from the source of the offending noise.  _Why on earth do they have that thing in here when it’s so loud?_ Propping her bag on a nearby worktable, she slid the folder between two textbooks and zipped the bag closed. Two more quick stops, and she could go home.

              It was June, and  _tsuyu_ , the rainy season, had begun. True, the constant downpour made the mosses lusher and the greens more verdant, but the hot, sticky air was ruthless, and the only salvation she had was the library, with what minimal air conditioning it had [1]. She quickly adjusted her ponytail to a higher position on her head, so her hair wouldn’t stick to her neck, and made her way to the front doors of the library. Fishing through forty or so soggy umbrellas, she found hers – a clear plastic one with bright green piping on the edges, and shook it out before heading outside.

              Leaving the library was like walking into a sauna steam room. Kagome raised the umbrella over her head, half-enjoying the soft pitter-patter of raindrops on the plastic, and stepped out into the rain. Two stops – she had to drop her paper off at Naraku-sensei’s office, and then go sixty paces down the hall to Aotsuki-sensei’s office to return the book she had borrowed from him.

              Naraku-sensei’s submission policy was the biggest pain. No email submissions – papers had to be printed, in manila folders labelled with the writer’s student ID number, and in the dropbox next to his office by 5:00 PM on the day they were due. This time, he had provided three topics for the essay, and demanded an eight-page paper in 1.5 spacing. Kagome had spent an inordinate amount of time researching her chosen subject and was particularly proud of the paper she had written.

              By the time she was at the faculty building, her leggings were splattered up to her knees from sloshing through puddles and from the rain. She felt sticky all over; the short curling hairs at the nape of her neck were pasted down to her skin, her underarms felt swampy, her collarbone was dewy, and her ponytail was fluffing out like the ‘80s were back in style. She deposited her umbrella in an empty spot in the rack by the entrance [2], and made her way to Naraku-sensei’s office.

              She stopped by the door – closed as usual, but light flooding out from behind it this time – and quietly set her backpack on the floor to fish out the specified manila folder. The unzipping echoed like a jackhammer in the quiet hallway, and Kagome was certain she heard a chair scraping across the floor from within the office before her. Her hear stuttered.  _Oh no_.

              The door opened just as her quivering hands pulled the folder out of her bag. Naraku-sensei’s imposing figure leaned in the entryway before her, black wavy hair carelessly tossed over one shoulder, dark reddish colored eyes flat as they honed in on her. “Ahh, Higurashi-kun.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s three-thirty. You’re early.”

              “I always try to be a little early with big deadlines,” she said, straightening. She held up the folder and he extended a hand, plucking it from her fingers.

              “Why don’t you come in for a moment?” He turned and preceded her into the office, sitting behind his desk, and propped his head in his hands as he studied her. Kagome shuffled in behind him, leaving the door wide open, and settled down before him.

              “Is something the matter?” She glanced around the small, square room, looking at everything but him. Like Aotsuki-sensei’s office, personal decorations were sparse, but this room seemed to lack the warmth that Aotsuki-sensei’s had somehow captured. Here the walls were painted a stark white, and the fluorescent overhead lights were the only source of light in the room. Books sat on simple metal-frame bookshelves, more suited for a warehouse than a university, and the small window on the far wall had the shutters drawn.

              Naraku-sensei answered without pause. “I’m a little concerned about you, Higurashi-kun.” At this, Kagome’s eyes snapped back to him immediately. He continued, leaning back in his chair fingers steepled over his lips, “your attendance is good, but your participation is poor. You always sit in the back of the classroom, hide behind your laptop, and you’re always the first to leave.”

              Her fingers unconsciously went to fiddle with her father’s necklace, rolling the pink bauble back and forth. His eyes followed the movement. “I have a study group that meets afterwards,” she replied, voice weak. What on earth was he implying?

              Expressionless eyes crinkled and his lips curved upwards in the semblance of a smile, but he said nothing for a moment. “I have my students use their ID numbers on their assignments for anonymity’s sake – so that there can be no question of favoritism or otherwise. I won’t know which is yours as I grade it. But, I am invested in your success, Higurashi-kun. Chiaki-sensei was a respected colleague in the field and he spoke highly of you. Please come speak to me after the grades are returned, regardless of the result.”

              She nodded mutely and stared at her hands.

              “Now if I’m not mistaken, Sesshoumaru-kun is expecting you.”

              Something in the way he said it set her on edge. The lack of respect he showed Aotsuki-sensei notwithstanding, his tone seemed full of malicious mockery. She struggled to collect her thoughts. “Aotsuki-sensei is?”

              “You have something of a standing appointment, from what I understand. Or am I mistaken?” His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Kagome’s were wide open, taking everything in.

              “Not a standing appointment, no. I go to him for resources sometimes.”

              He made a noise – a scoff? – and turned to his computer. “I’ll see you next week, Higurashi-kun.”

              Kagome immediately stood, made her excuses and fled the room. She left the door open behind her, and made quick work of the sixty paces down the hall to Aotsuki-sensei’s office. His door too was ajar, and Kagome scurried in, closing it behind her, before leaning against it, wet hair smooshed against its patterned glass pane, and exhaled her relief.

              Aotsuki-sensei, hands poised over the keyboard of his computer, had turned his head and was regarding her with a hint of amusement in his golden eyes. Slowly, he repositioned his chair so he looked at her directly, and cocked his head infinitesimally to the side in inquiry. “Something the matter, Higurashi-kun?”

              “Just – I’m so relieved to turn that paper in!” She said, a bright if slightly forced smile on her face. She set her half-open backpack on one of the red chairs facing his desk, and dug through it until she located a small paperback book with a worn binding and fraying corners on the cover. “Thank you for the book. It was helpful.”

              He stood, accepted it, and moved to the bookshelf to return it to its proper place – stacked semi-horizontally on top of three volumes of different heights, all pertaining to the Sengoku Jidai. She appreciated the litheness of his form and the grace in his movements, the way his sleeves, folded up to the forearms, cinched back a bit as he extended his arms. He turned his back to her then, and she heard the distinctive sound of a mug being set down on the desk. “Coffee?”

              “Yes, thank you.” She closed her bag, and set it on the floor by the red chair she settled into then. He poured, elbow lifting as he tilted the coffee pot, then handed her a white ceramic mug with a Chinese ink painting of a dog etched into the side. He always gave her this mug. Gratefully, she took a sip of the steaming brew [3] and settled the mug down on a coaster on the desk. Aotsuki-sensei grabbed a book off the window-sill and passed it to her next, and she accepted it with a smile.

              He went back to work at his computer, she flipped through the new text as she drank her coffee. When she was done with her beverage, she tucked the book into her bag, excused herself quietly, and closed the door behind her.

-+-

              Hojo standing her up ended up the first in a domino-like chain of last-minute cancellations for Kagome. A study group fell apart for two weeks in a row. Her mother cancelled a weekend coffee date. The air-conditioner repair man had missed his appointment time with no explanation and she had yet to have a call back from the landlord regarding when they would try again. The latest one really stung, though. She and Sango had been planning a girls’ night in, with wine, ice cream, chick flicks and nail polish. They lived together, of course, but Sango’s courses were mostly in the evenings, and her workload was a lot more time-consuming than Kagome’s, so they rarely got a chance to hang out just the two of them.

              Sango and Miroku had been on the rocks since the Haruka-chan debacle back in April. Apparently, after the first time that Miroku had gotten his mitts all over the girl, there had been a repeat incident, and he and Sango had had a verbal altercation of sorts. Haruka-chan had gotten the message at that point, but even now in June things between the Miroku and Sango had been strained and tense. This girls’ night was supposed to, in part, help Sango to relax and let loose a little.

              But, it was not to be. Kagome’s phone rang right around 5PM, when her roommate would be getting out of her last lecture of the day, and Sango’s voice was dripping with guilt. “Kagome-chan, I’m so sorry to do this to you!”

              When conversations started out that way, it was never good news. “Do what to me?”

              “Miroku and I had a little talk today at lunch – I say little but it was actually a pretty big deal, or the start of a pretty big deal. I think we can work through things, you know, and he asked me to stop by and hash it out with him tonight, and… I’m so sorry to cancel on you!”

              Kagome closed her eyes and then opened them again, leaning against the frame of her bed and tilting her head back to look at the spackled ceiling above. “It’s alright,” she said on a long sigh. “I want a full report when you’re done. Are you planning on coming back home tonight?”

              There was a pause. That was a ‘no’. “It shouldn’t take too long, but I don’t want you to wait up, just in case.”

              “Okay,” Kagome replied, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If not tonight, sometime soon.” They hung up not long after, and Kagome stood once more to amble aimlessly to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and stared into it, unseeing. Nothing in there looked good anyway. Ice cream and wine wasn’t exactly what she wanted anymore.

              Despite her messy hair, rumpled t-shirt and shorts, Kagome decided to grab something fresh from the store. It was a ten-minute walk towards campus to the closest  _konbini_  [4], or if she walked another fifteen minutes in the opposite direction, she could get to the grocery store. After a little deliberation, she decided konbini fare would hit the spot just fine.

              She grabbed her purse on the way out of the kitchen before thoughtlessly selecting a yellow ducky umbrella, and going on her way. She passed the time on her walk humming tunelessly and huffing her disgust when a passing car sped through a puddle, splashing her legs with water. Hindsight was twenty-twenty – her sneakers were soggy, and her legs were wet, and she was sweaty, and her hair was sticking to her neck and shoulders. Oh well.

              The convenience store’s brightly illuminated sign thrummed its fluorescence, and the humid air was heavy and still, but when she walked indoors a blast of cool air brought her endless relief. She made her way to the dry goods and shoved three ramen bowls into her basket, then to the fresh foods and picked out two fresh bento boxes – both gyudon [5], her favorite – and a few onigiri with varying fillings. She also picked up a pair of fresh socks to change into for the walk back, before heading to the register to pay.

              As she looked up from her wallet after putting away her change, Kagome saw the most unnerving sight – Naraku-sensei had just walked into the store, and turned down into the salty snack aisle. She ducked her head and turned to the side as she zipped her purse closed, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly do an about-face and notice her, and then tiptoed her way to the door and back outside, stopping only to pick up her yellow ducky umbrella.

              Once outside, she scooted away from the windows and stopped to look at a bench by the entry, considering. She wanted to change her socks. She didn’t know how long it would be before her advisor exited the store, and she didn’t want to have to talk to him.

              The decision was taken from her, then, when the familiar tingle ran down her spine at the sound of Aotsuki-sensei’s voice. “Higurashi-kun,” he greeted her, stopping at her side. She looked up at him, and he apparently sensed her indecision. “Are you lost?”

              Kagome studied Aotsuki-sensei’s face, shadowed slightly by his clear plastic umbrella, and felt a little better. A little safer, maybe. She was self-aware enough to know that she had a crush on him. He was kind to her, and very handsome, and there seemed to be no end to his knowledge. “In a way,” she half-laughed.

              He looked down, and she felt his gaze skimming her lower half, her dripping legs, her soggy socks and shoes. “Skipping through puddles?” She did laugh this time, and he shook his head slightly, casting his eyes skyward. “Come,” he commanded, and walked past her back to the sidewalk.

              She made a small yelp and followed after him. “Weren’t you going in?”

              He didn’t reply.

              Kagome shot a glance back at the store, and felt her heart freeze when her line of sight landed on Naraku-sensei’s form, staring at her over a men’s magazine, through the front window. Immediately looking away, she doubled her pace, nearly tripping over her feet, and chased after the man of her dreams.

_-+-_

              Kagome followed Sesshoumaru three blocks when they turned in to a small but posh-looking apartment complex. They were greeted by a doorman in a black suit, who received them with a surprising amount of deference, and Sesshoumaru gently took the yellow duck umbrella from Kagome’s hand and handed it off to him.

              Why on earth had he brought her here? Perhaps he didn’t realize that she lived just a few minutes further down the road? “Aotsuki-sensei?” Kagome managed uncertainly, feeling slightly out of body.

              He made eye contact with her but said nothing, ushering her to the elevator. They rode in silence up to the uppermost floor, and exited the elevator directly into a small foyer with only one door opposite. Keys jingling, Sesshoumaru opened the entry to his apartment, revealing a large open room, sparsely furnished with deep couches and a shag rug. The far wall was a wall of windows. To the right, an airy, modern kitchen sparkled under the lamplight. To the left, several doors stood open, but the rooms behind were dark.

              “ _Ojama-shimasu_ ,” Kagome called out as she stepped inside and sat down on the entrance step to remove her sodden shoes, placing them tidily against the step, toes pointed to the front door [6]. Sesshoumaru left her seated there and returned shortly, dropping a large towel over her head. She glanced up at him and smiled gratefully before bending over to peel off her soaked socks and towel off her feet and legs.

              “Do you have the whole top floor?” she asked. He made a small humming sound in agreement, and she peeked up to see him lean against the wall across from her from which vantage point he observed her progress.

              “It’s a rental,” he added. “My home is in Jiyugaoka.”

              “Jiyugaoka?” She echoed, stunned. An eclectic and artsy neighborhood, with buildings that look like old Europe, traditional Japanese homes, and a small strip modeled after Venice, it was an exceedingly trendy and suitably expensive place to live. Kagome pushed herself upright, blinking owlishly.

              “The commute to the university is easier from here.” He held out a hand and she passed him the towel. “Make yourself at home,” he murmured, and turned away, ostensibly to deal with the soiled linen.

              She watched his back for a moment as he retreated to one of the darkened doorways, and then pivoted to the living room. Ambling around, she took in the generic furnishings, the lack of personal touches. Granted, his workplace was free of knick-knacks and personal touches as well, but it had a certain hominess and warmth that this apartment clearly lacked. It had probably come furnished, she decided.

              Kagome stopped in front of the lone bookshelf, which seemed to be the single spark of Aotsuki-sensei’s personality in the room. Just as in his office, this one was overflowing with books, crammed in this way and that – newer titles alongside aged volumes with cracking spines. She touched her finger to a blue covered book with yellow lettering.  _The Pillow Book_. Sei Shonagon, a Lady of Empress Teishi’s court in the Heian period, had kept a diary – a pillow book, as they were called then –  which was later published by that name. She smiled. It was a volume she had seen in his shelf on campus as well. To think that Aotsuki-sensei had a soft spot for such gossipy writing.

              A musical giggle escaped her lips, followed by a slight gasp when she felt Sesshoumaru’s hand suddenly pat and then rest on the top of her head. She peeked over her shoulder and him, and he quirked an eyebrow, as if saying  _‘Something funny?’_ , before removing his hand and walking toward the kitchen.

              “You’re welcome to stay until the rain stops,” he murmured. “Have you eaten?”

              She laughed. “I went to the konbini to buy dinner, actually. Were you going to cook?” His facial expression was entirely blank as he looked at her, and he offered no response. “I have gyudon for two. Would you like some?”

              He huffed slightly, and she ran to the entrance to pick up her bags. They ate in silence interrupted only by Kagome’s occasional appreciative humming. She picked up the last bite of bite with her chopsticks and thoughtfully took her last bite, looking up at her companion. “Aotsuki-sensei… by any chance did you see that Naraku-sensei was at the store too?”

              “Naraku.” He almost seemed to spit the name. “He resides in one of the faculty buildings in 4-chome [7]”.

              “4-chome,” she repeated, voice hollow, stomach sinking. “That’s the other direction from campus.”

              He averted his eyes momentarily, apparently looking out the window, for the next thing he said was that the rain had stopped. Kagome gave him a brittle smile and stood. She reached into her bag and pulled out the socks she had bought at the store, and waving them slightly, thanked him for his hospitality but she should really be getting home.

              He walked her to the elevator, and as the doors were closing, she heard his soft, deep voice once more.

              “Don’t forget your umbrella.”

-+-

              As Kagome headed to campus the following morning, her stomach was clenching with anxiety. She had fretted about the events of the evening prior the whole night, and with little sleep and tons of coffee, her nerves were fried. By the time she scooted into the back of the lecture hall for Naraku-sensei’s class, she could feel her throat closing. She just wanted the class to start, and then to end, so she could get it over with and to begin her weekend and forget the whole thing as quickly as she could.

              But such a luxury was outside the grasp of our unlucky little heroine. In the last few minutes of class, Naraku-sensei moved behind the desk at the front of the room and pulled a stack of manila folders from his bag. “I always pride myself on getting papers back quickly. They’re in numerical order.” He divided them into three discrete stacks on the desktop. “I hope you’ve memorized your student ID numbers,” he quipped.

              The students stood from their seats and lined up at the desk, rifling through until they found their papers and then shuffling off, most of them peering inside to peek at their grades.

              “If you’ve got a red star next to your ID number, I expect you to make an appointment with me afterwards,” he said, and a few groans rippled throughout the room.

              Kagome reached the desk, and felt the tightness in her throat return full-force when she saw a small, nearly drawn red star on the label tab of her folder. She looked up as though compelled, straight into her professor’s slightly narrowed, oddly gleaming eyes. “Higurashi-kun, as expected,” he sighed melodramatically. “Please stay for a moment.”

              She nodded mutely, and retreated from the desk, grabbing a nearby seat and opening the folder to look at her paper. It was marked up entirely in red, with comments scribbled into the margins, and the entire bottom half of the last page crammed with tidily printed red notes, and a large, circled grade: 63%. A “C”. A passing score, but only barely. What on earth? She had been so proud of her paper. How had it turned out like this?

              When the herd of students had thinned out, Naraku-sensei began packing his bag, placing his notes and papers in first, followed by the unclaimed manila folders from absent students. He turned to Kagome and studied her, leaning one hip against the desk.

              “Sensei,” she began, “I’m a little uncertain about some of these critiques – I’d… like to read through them first. So I can talk about them more thoughtfully with you – “ she spoke haltingly, eyes fixed just below his own, somewhere between his nose and his chin, and a little to the left.

              “Of course, if you’d like.” He pulled the shoulder strap of his messenger bag over his head adjusted it idly. “I would like you to know, however, that I take academic honesty very seriously Higurashi-kun.”

              His words cut through her. “Excuse me?” Her gaze, sharpening with incredulity, snapped up to meet his.

              “In light of your history of fraternization with the faculty – Chiaki-san, Sesshoumaru-kun – it may come as a shock to you to be assessed purely on your ability. I may be persuaded to reconsider, of course,” he tilted his head slightly, a soft, deceptive smile on his lips, “given the right incentive”.

              And with that, he settled his bag on his hip, straightened, and left a dumbstruck Kagome, white as a sheet, in his wake.

_-+-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m so sorry! A loooot of footnotes this time~
> 
> [1] Tsuyu in Japan changes depending on your geography but here it’s between June and mid-July. Japanese schools, particularly public schools, are notoriously stingy with the use of A/C as it can be quite expensive. There’s also actually something called Air-Conditioning Sickness and that’s a big consideration.
> 
> [2] Umbrella culture is a thing. Here’s a link to fun little article about umbrella culture in Japan. https://www.insidejapantours.com/blog/2015/12/04/brolly-wet-june/   The author forgot to mention that people usually have multiple umbrellas to match their outfits, as well. At the university I attended, there were possibly almost fifty umbrellas at a time in one of the racks close to my classrooms. Insanity.
> 
> [3] Generally, Japanese people drink hot beverages when it’s hot outside, to help them cool down. Usually tea though, or water, but coffee also serves the purpose.
> 
> [4] Konbini is an abbreviation for Convenience Store. There are 7-11s, Circle Ks, and a few other stores run by the same companies in the states, but both these and the local ones (Lawson, for example), are quite different than an American Convenience Store. There are a LOT more healthful fresh food options, for one! Here’s a little youtube walk-through of a Japanese 7-11 so you can see the difference (they even show the porno mag section lol): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bt-2Apxk3Uw
> 
> [5] Gyudon: meat over rice dish. Sooooo delish. Here’s a cooking with dog recipe: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1mvYnRJX70
> 
>  [6] Ojama-shimasu: Excuse me, said when entering someone’s home.
> 
> [7] Chome: Addresses in Japan are different in Japan. Most roads don’t have names, to begin with – blocks do, or rather they’re numbered. Numbered buildings are on numbered blocks, in numbered neighborhoods/towns known as “Chome” (pronounced cho-meh). Cute article for further reading. http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2012/04/most-japanese-streets-dont-have-names/


	5. 学問   Studies: You will have to work harder: Part II

**Omikuji**

Chapter Five

_学問   Studies: You will have to work harder: Part II_

              When the moment came and Myouga-sensei ushered her into his office, Kagome found she couldn’t quite bring herself to repeat what Naraku-sensei had said, or to even bring up the conversation in any terms at all. Instead, she showed him her paper and asked him for guidance, a feeling of shame and guilt niggling at her the entire time.

              He studied the marks on her essay and read through the content himself, and after a long period of silence, in which Kagome stared despondently at the floor, he spoke. “While I do think your work is quite good, and that his critique is overly harsh, he does make some good points that you would do well to consider. I know a low mark is upsetting for you, especially on a first assignment, but graduate school is more of a challenge than your undergraduate studies will have been.” He observed her for a moment. “I have every faith that you will overcome this hurdle and finish brilliantly, Higurashi-kun. Take these,” he said, handing her a sheaf of papers he pulled from one of his drawers.

              Kagome glanced at the headers on the first few pages. “Internship applications?”

              “It’s never too early,” he replied. “And a good performance at one of these will help balance your marks.”

              She smiled wanly and thanked him, tucking them into her bag. As she left the faculty buildings another wave of nausea hit her. She staggered over to slump down into a bench by the entrance and lowered her head between her knees. Deep breaths. Eventually she calmed, and when she did, she leaned back and looked up at the clouds above. They were dark and heavy – it would rain again soon – and the air seemed to almost crackle around her.

              Sango would know what to do. Sure, she was focusing on pediatric law, but Sango would know about sexual harassment cases and the like. She would know what to do. Mind made up, Kagome stood and hustled back to her apartment. Sango wouldn’t be there, but Kagome sent her a quick text message outlining what had happened, and set about writing down just exactly what had happened after class that day.

              Once finished, she felt a little better. Sango had replied promptly to let her know they’d discuss when she got home, so there was nothing else to be done now. Except, of course, for homework. As she emptied her backpack, the small stack of internship applications caught her attention. Myouga-sensei was right, of course. She set the sheets aside on the far left of her desk, and jotted a small note about them in her bullet journal. Next on the stack, of course, was the manila folder marked with a bright red star.

              She opened the folder and pulled out her paper. After a deep breath to set her feelings of revulsion aside, she picked up a highlighter and began reading through the comments in red ink in the margins. Kagome was no push-over. Myouga-sensei had said that she would do well to consider the critiques, so she would do just that. She would read and understand them, and  use them as a spring-board to improve the quality of her writing and argument structures, and show Naraku-sensei that if he assessed her based solely on her ability, he would be hard-pressed to find anything lacking.

              It was in this manner that she spent the next hour and a half, assiduously highlighting, taking notes, reading and rereading. She was fired up and going full throttle when the sound of the front door slamming shut broke her concentration, and she jumped out of her seat. Sango popped her head into Kagome’s room then. “Let me put my things down. Meet me in five minutes in the kitchen?”

              Before any discussion was had, a pint of coffee-flavored ice cream was produced along with a two steaming cups of freshly brewed dark roast. They sat at the counter in silence as Sango studied Kagome’s written account of the events.

              “Well?”

              Sango considered for a moment before speaking. “So he’s shady as all get-out but what he was said was sufficiently vague enough that we can’t make a clear case of sexual harassment yet.” Kagome balked and Sango held up a hand, pressing on. “Let me reread it: ‘Considering your history of fraternization with the staff – Chiaki-sensei, Aotsuki-sensei – it must come as a shock to you to be assessed purely on your ability. I might be persuaded to reconsider, of course, given the right incentive.’ That’s what he said?”

              Kagome nodded. “It was a few days ago, but that’s pretty much word-for-word what I remember.”

              “Okay. So. The phrase ‘the right incentive’ can be rightly construed to mean something relating to fraternization, from the context, however, it could also successfully be argued to be a benign request for you to up your academic game at best. Or it could be a request for a bribe, at worst.” She set the paper down. “He didn’t touch you, he didn’t say anything explicitly sexual, or make any gestures with his hands, or get into your space, or anything, right?”

              Dumbstruck, Kagome shook her head.

              “Obviously, he’s a creep of major proportions. And I agree with the conclusion you drew. But you have to be careful. You can’t make any accusations publicly until you have a solid case. You know how universities are. You know how the police treat these cases.” Sango reached out and laid her hand over Kagome’s on the countertop. “If there’s any backlash coming out with this too early, it’s going to affect you, not him.”

              “Okay, so what do I do?” she responded, firming her resolve.

              “Use the anonymous reporting tool first,” Sango advised. “As soon as possible. Now, even.” Kagome dutifully grabbed her phone and began navigating to the website. “When are you meeting with him to go over the paper?”

              “Tuesday, 4’oclock.”

              “Shoot, I’m in class. Try and leave the office door wide open. If you can get one of your classmates to wait outside for you, that would help.” Sango stood. “We need wine.”

              Several hours later, and a few glasses of wine down and one more in hand, Kagome walked into her room, full of resolve. No matter what, Kagome would not let him get the upper hand on her. But for now, on to other things.

              She settled her glass on the night-stand, and flopped onto her bed. Eyes closed, she reached under her pillow for the book underneath. She fingered the worn edges of the binding and soft texture of the older pages. Sighing, she opened the book and pressed her nose into it, breathing deeply of its scent. After a moment of this meditation, she rolled over onto her tummy and traced the title with her fingertip.  _The Thirteen-Day Emperor_. A book about Akechi Mitsuhide, who rebelled against Oda Nobunaga and foiled his attempts to unify Japan. Mitsuhide had declared himself Shogun after defeating Nobunaga in battle, but his reign lasted the merest thirteen days before his story ended.

              By Aotsuki Sesshoumaru.

              She hummed a small tune as she flipped the back cover of the book open, one hand fidgeting with the library’s catalog-card pocket, now used as “Due back by”-card pocket, and looked at the picture of the author on the back. It was a moody image, in black and white, of him sitting in profile looking out a window, long hair elegantly cascading over his shoulder. She read the author bio blurb – shockingly short, but he was a private kind of man – and stopped when she saw the last line.

              An email address.

              Kagome, for all the time she had spent in his office – and just recently, in his apartment – didn’t have any way to contact him unless she were to show up at either place in person. She had toyed with the thought, in the past, of using the fan contact email on this book jacket as a means to reach out to him, to open those lines of communication, but always instantly discarded the idea.

              Until now, when for some reason, she couldn’t seem to let it go. Coming to her elbows, Kagome turned to her nightstand. She reached for her wine, took a sip, and then replaced the glass. Then she reached for her laptop. Just a short note. No need to overthink things. She opened her browser and then her email account. A steady hand clicked on the “compose” button, and self-assuredly keyed in the email address she had by this time learned by heart.

              Just a quick note to satisfy her whim. She didn’t even have to send it. She chuckled to herself, downed the last of her wine, and started tapping on the keyboard. Just a quick note.

-+-

              “Did you find the book you were looking for, Higurashi-san?”

              Kagome smiled at Matsuda-san, one of the librarians she relied so heavily upon, and thanked her. “I did! I can always count on you. I’ll be back again tomorrow. Will you be working?”

              “I won’t be,” the older woman replied, her grey bob bouncing as she shook her head, “but Mirai-kun will be here.”

              They exchanged farewells and Kagome shouldered her backpack to head out the door. The clock chimed six. She stopped in the vestibule, looking past the glass to the gloomy and darkening sky and the sprinkle of rain, already feeling her hair curling and frizzing and her forehead beginning to sweat. What miserable weather. To her left, the automatic doors opened to let someone in, and the blast of hot sticky air coming in with them hit her like a wave.

              She turned and saw the student that had entered as he was forming her name.

              “Kagome!”

              “Kouga-kun!” Kagome tried not to blush, but she couldn’t help it. They had dated during high-school and broken up during the summer before college started. It had been a messy break-up and he had hounded her for a while afterwards, before he met a nice girl named Ayame with a startling habit of dying her hair bright red. Kagome had been thankful for the reprieve, but she was still embarrassed to see him again. “How are you – ah – “

              He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own arms to her sides, his humid skin sticking to hers, which was still cool from the library’s blessed air-conditioning. His long black pony-tail in her face tickled her nose, and she let out a small giggle. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said, gently pushing him away.

              His lopsided grin and sparkling blue eyes made her heart squeeze in a nostalgic sort of way, but his next comment unsettled her. “Some things never will,” he said, grin broadening.

              “How is, ah, Ayame-san?”

              He wrinkled his nose. “Haven’t seen her in a bit.” His look turned appraising. “How have you been? I heard Sango and Miroku are still together but I haven’t heard anything about you.”

              She laughed nervously. “Still studying hard. Not much room in my life for anything else nowadays. What are you doing in the  _library_?”

              The appraising look turned roguish. “I have a study group in a little bit or you know I wouldn’t be caught dead here. We should get together and catch up.” The automatic door opened behind him, admitting another gust of wet wind. “Wanna grab a coffee?”

              “I’m afraid that will have to wait for another time,” came the cool voice of the man who had come in behind them, and Kagome immediately felt the unpleasant chills that ran down her spine every time she heard it. “Higurashi-kun and I have an appointment.”

              Naraku-sensei, messenger bag slung across his chest and on his hip, red eyes glowing, stood there, training his fierce gaze on a completely oblivious Kouga. “Hey man, that’s cool,” Kouga replied, and turned to Kagome once more. “I’ll shoot you a text.” He departed then, stepping through the second set of doors and into the library, a cloud of crisp cool air escaping back into the vestibule.

              Kagome felt the chill in her bones, her skin pimpling up into goose-flesh as she looked into the face of her tormentor. “We didn’t have anything scheduled today, Naraku-sensei.”

              “That has changed,” he said dismissively. “Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes. I have an important matter to discuss with you regarding your upcoming assignment. I want to –,” he sneered, “—set you up for success”.

              He walked past her into the library before she could dissent, and it took every ounce of control she had to not look back into the building before she made her escape. She had to call Sango. Her study group friends had already gone home an hour ago. There wasn’t anybody to back her up. But she couldn’t skip the impromptu meeting. The man was her professor and she had to be careful. She dashed to the office building, peeking in every room for a familiar face. Nobody. She jogged past Naraku-sensei’s office to Aotsuki-sensei’s door, but the light was off inside.

              Her heart sank. She called Sango and left a voicemail, then texted her to be sure.  _Please call me in fifteen minutes and ask me to come home! Naraku trouble._  Sango would be in class. But hopefully she would be able to sneak out for a bathroom break and come to the rescue.

              For the remaining ten minutes, her pulse raced. When the echo of footsteps reached her ears, her skin began to crawl, her palms began to sweat. She squeezed her phone in her hand.

              “Higurashi-kun,” called the flat tenor of Naraku-sensei’s voice. “How good of you to stick around.” Keys jingling, he unlocked the office door and held it open for her.

              Oh no. He meant to follow her into the room. He would be able to close the door behind himself. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “I was about to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

              The corners of his lips tightened and the pale skin of his face took a slightly darker cast. She bowed her head and excused herself once more before jogging down the hall to the family restroom, and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the door. She exhaled deeply. She splashed water on her face. No text back from Sango. Kagome keyed another message:  _Please call me. Please. It’s urgent._  She sent a text to Miroku also. She breathed again, and exited back into the hall.

              The hallway was half-lit, and Naraku-sensei’s door was open, light spilling out, looking rather more ominous than welcoming. She rounded the corner and stood in the doorway, bag held to her chest.

              “So cagey, Higurashi-kun.” Naraku said, leaning back in his office chair behind the desk. Thank heaven he was sitting down.

              She took a small step into the office and smiled politely. “You said something about our upcoming assignment?”

              “Ah, yes,” he said, eyes flashing with irritation. “I may have said something about that. But something of rather greater urgency has occurred to me. I hope you don’t mind if we set that assignment aside for later. Please, have a seat.”

              Smile stiff on her lips, she perched on the arm-rest of one of the office chairs. Naraku-sensei looked at her in silence for a long moment, sneering, before his gaze strayed from her face and wandered down her silhouette to her shorts, tan legs, converse sneakers. “Something urgent?” Kagome asked, hoping that getting him talking would stop him from looking her over.

              His eyes did come back up to meet hers, and she was glad for half a moment. “Indeed. You saw Myouga-sensei yesterday, I am aware. He spoke to me about your meeting this morning.” Those flat red eyes held hers, unrelenting, boring into her. “I would prefer you to come to me with any questions you may have. My own meeting with him was uncomfortable and I would much rather that not color  _our_  interactions.” He paused.

               _Oh my god,_  she thought, eyes widening.  _Is that a threat?_  Agitated, she reach up to fold her fingers around her father’s pendant, the small pink bauble cool in her hand. Naraku-sensei’s eyes followed the movement before trailing back up to her face.

              “It did little more than confirm my suspicions about your penchant for that kind of misbehavior,  _Kagome_ -kun. Not the impression you were intending to leave, I’m sure.” His voice was so dismissive it took her a moment to process what he had said, and then his chair was scraping the floor and he was standing, and then he was coming around the desk to stop in front of her, and she was paralyzed.

              Kagome didn’t breathe. He was less than a foot away. His hand was extending out to her. She watched as though it were in slow-motion, as his sickly pale wrist flexed and he opened his fingers, reaching to curl them around her arm.

              “Higurashi.”

              The smooth baritone broke the spell that had bound her in place, and, her head swimming in relief, she stepped away from the danger in front of her. She and Naraku-sensei both turned to see the silver-haired man in the doorway. Kagome breathed in her delight and Naraku’s lips curled in disdain.

              Expression shuttered, he spoke again. “Go home Higurashi.” She ducked her head and made her way past him through the door. “It’s past time to be having student meetings, Naraku-sensei,” he admonished, his usually velvety voice biting and cold. “You wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression.”

              Kagome didn’t hear anything else that was said, if anything else was said. The only sound she heard as she escaped the office buildings was the echoing of her footsteps and the harshness of her breathing as she ran.

              She broke through the doors to the outside, gulping deep breaths of that swampy air, feeling the warm rain patter against the top of her head, against her skin. Her umbrella. She would have to go in again and get it. But nothing could induce her to turn around and go back into that building just now.

              For a moment longer she stood there, breathing, mind reeling, replaying everything that had happened. And then, she felt a weight on her shoulder and looked up to see her ducky umbrella sitting atop it, held aloft by Aotsuki-sensei’s long, elegant fingers.

              “Come,” he commanded, and she was helpless but to obey.

-+-

              The silence on the walk from campus to Aotsuki-sensei’s apartment was filled by the gentle music of the falling rain against her umbrella, Kagome behind him on the narrow sidewalk, eyes trained on the soft swishing of his long silver hair. Once inside the building, the suited doorman greeted them both by name – a surprise – and received their umbrellas.

              They rode the elevator without speaking, without looking at one another. He opened the door to his apartment and she preceded him in, “ _Ojama-shimasu_ ” spoken on barely a breath, and toed off her shoes in the entrance-way. She trailed after him into the kitchen, where he made his way directly to the pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine. He uncorked it, poured two glasses, and it was only after she’d had her first sip that he finally spoke.

              “Are you alright?”

              Kagome set her glass down on the kitchen counter and sighed. “I still don’t believe it happened. I mean, what even happened? It’s so surreal.”

              “That cur needs to be taught his place,” he replied, eyes hard as steel and a violence in his voice that she had never heard before.  _Ah_ , she thought.  _This is the ogre Hojo-kun referred to_. She shook her head and took another sip of wine.

              “How much did you hear?” She asked.

              “Enough,” was his terse reply.

              Restless, Kagome stood, glass of wine in hand, and headed into the living area to sit on one of the couches. She put her wine to the side on a console table and hugged a pillow to her chest. He had followed, settled himself in beside her. “Thank you for stepping in,” she said.

              He said nothing, and when she turned to look at him, he was studying her intently. She couldn’t read much into his expression – she realized now that she had never really been able to – but there was a warmth in his eyes that unsettled her in the best sort of way, sending her heart hammering yet again.

              “I don’t receive a lot of fan-mail, Higurashi,” he said, voice soft and even.

              “Fan-mail?” She repeated meekly, cheeks coloring as flashes of memory started popping up in her head.  _Oh no._  Had she actually  _sent_  that email?

              “And certainly not of that type.”

               _Oh noooo!_  What had she even written?! Face flaming, Kagome buried her head into the pillow she had been holding, releasing a mortified groan. She felt the couch shift beside her –  _was he leaving?_  – and looked back up. The pillow was plucked from her hands as she realized just how close he was to her on the couch, and before she had the chance to try and speak up in her own defense, his fingers were tipping her chin up gently, and his lips were descended on hers.

              Warm, smooth, slightly moist, they pressed against her own lips briefly once, then lingeringly a second time. He pulled away infinitesimally and his smoldering golden eyes peered into hers, which fluttered in incredulity. “Hn” he chuckled, and she heard that soft breath escape his lips, felt it as it fanned hot against her flushed cheeks, before he kissed her once more.

              Kagome closed her eyes, embracing this beautiful dream, and kissed him back. Her hand went out to touch his chest, and it rumbled beneath her touch before he reached to pull her onto his lap. His body was hot under her fingertips, but she had used up her bravery, and kept her hands still against the broad chest before her. He felt no such compunction, apparently, one hand at the small of her back, tracing slow, tantalizing circles, the other at the back of her neck, bringing her closer to him, as his soft kisses became more passionate.

              The tip of his tongue, searing hot, teased at her as they kissed, and she opened her mouth to receive him. A teasing lick and he withdrew, kissing along her jaw, nuzzling into her neck. She moaned, a delightful pressure beginning to build within her, and rocked a little in his lap. The hand on her back dipped lower, squeezing her over her shorts, kneading, caressing.

              And then she rocketed out of his lap when her back pocket began to ring and vibrate. “Oh my lord,” she cried, reality falling upon her, and scrambled away from him. “It’s Sango!” She put the phone to her ear, answered with a frantic “Hello?”, and dashed to the entrance, where she toed on her shoes, and finally bolted out the door.           

-+-

                _Aotsuki-sensei,_

_I have not been a long-time reader of your works. In fact, I only picked them up recently after meeting you in person. You write very well and I appreciate the insights in your books and whatnot but let’s get to the real issue here. I have a question or two about some of the sources you sited in The Thirteen-Day Emperor. I wasn’t able to find copies of at least two of them in our departmental library, and even Matsuda-san with all of her librarian powers couldn’t clue me in any better. What are the chances you still have some of those reference materials? I always appreciate when you make recommendations to me regarding my research, but somehow I feel that there has been a glaring omission in your recommendations (see above)! Thank you for stepping in the other day. Next time, we can dry off at my place. It’s only a few blocks further down the road._

_- An anonymous fan. Of sorts._

 -+-


	6. 恋愛 Love: Your love will not be returned.

 

 

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Six

_恋愛 Love: Your love will not be returned._

 

“You  _ran away_?” Sango’s cackle filled the room. “You just  _left him_  like that?”

              Kagome buried her head in her pillow. “Ugh, I’m so stupid.” She could not express in words the depth of her humiliation. How silly, how immature he must think her! She didn’t have any contact information either, so it wasn’t a matter resolved simply via a text message or phone call. She’d have to talk to him in person. Kagome’s groan made Sango burst out into laughter again.              

              “Girl. You just can’t help but be yourself,” Sango chortled, and mussed Kagome’s hair affectionately. “Give it a day or two and stop by to return one of the books he loaned you. I bet you five bucks it’ll be fine.”

              She tried, for the next several days, not to overthink things. It wasn’t so hard over the weekend. She did her assignments and worked ahead on her readings, she did her laundry and talked to her mom on the phone. Sango was kind enough to not mention the matter further or to throw  _too_  many meaningful looks in her direction. By Sunday night Kagome convinced herself that she had fully swallowed her shame and could face Aotsuki-sensei as an adult. She would do just as Sango had suggested, and keep it casual.

-+-

              Monday was a beautiful day, a blissful reprieve from the soggy, dark afternoons that  _tsuyu_  season always brought. The sun kissed her skin tenderly as she made the walk to campus, and a soft breeze kept her cool. Bolstered by this great gift from the heavens, Kagome made it to the university with feelings bordering on confidence.          

              Her cellphone buzzed just as she stepped through the gates. A quick glance at the screen, and she was surprised to see Kouga’s name. Hadn’t she deleted his number after they broke up?

               _Hey girl. Hope you have a great start to your week! Maybe we can kick it off right by grabbing dinner tonight?_

Kagome felt the nostalgic  _lub-dub_ in her chest that she would always feel when Kouga gave her attention when they were in high-school together. He was a hopelessly handsome man, and what he lacked in refinement he made up with honest charm. He’d been her first love. A part of her heart would always belong to him. But now wasn’t the time. She turned the screen of her phone off and tucked the device back into her handbag, text message unanswered. She had more important things to do right now. First of all, she had to meet with the man of her dreams and set things right between them. And then, she had to go to the office of the man of her nightmares. She sighed.

              By the time she reached Aotsuki-sensei’s office, her confidence had turned into just a sliver of composure. The door was closed, and she heard voices behind it. She would have to wait. This was hell on her nerves. Two steps backwards and she leaned gingerly against the wall, fingers tight around the book she held to her chest.

              The door slammed open, and a frazzled-looking woman with dark hair and red eyes – startlingly like Naraku-sensei’s – bustled out. She paused briefly, perhaps startled to see Kagome standing there, but shook her head and went on her way without a word. Sesshoumaru walked to the door behind her, and seeing Kagome, stepped back and to the side, to allow her to precede him into the room.

              She did as he bid, ducking her head and avoiding eye-contact as she entered. Her heart was in her throat. Irrational envy filled her, because she didn’t know who the woman was or what her relationship was with him, and she couldn’t stomach the thought of any competition just now. He brushed past her to seat himself back behind his desk, his silver hair curtaining behind him like a waterfall. The remnants of her composure crumbled within her.

              “Coffee?” He offered, and without waiting for her reply, turned to the machine behind him. The strong smell of brewing coffee started almost immediately, and it made Kagome’s stomach turn. He didn’t face her again until he set a mug of coffee down before her, in the mug he always seemed to reserve for her.

              Kagome thanked him with a soft voice, and took a sip, peeking up at him from under her lashes. He watched her openly, but he didn’t speak. She set the mug down and silently pushed the book across the desk to him. “Thank you, as always. It was really useful.”

              “Hn.”

              His golden eyes were still on her, unblinking and intense, and she was about to lose her mind. “About the other day –”

              He swiveled in his chair, turning to face his computer. “A matter best left to rest,” he said tightly, and set about to opening his email.

              Kagome, wide-eyed in disbelief, nodded dumbly and stood, chair rattling behind her. “I didn’t mean –” He looked up at her again, eyes blazing, and moved to stand.

              The door crashed open behind her and the woman from before stood in its frame. “You know what, this conversation isn’t over Sesshoumaru! Do you  _mind_?” She sneered, turning her fierce gaze on Kagome.

              “I can see you’re busy,” Kagome mumbled, and dashed out of the office, running away from him once again.

-+-

              At seven o’clock, Kagome found herself occupying one of six seats at the bar of Matsu, a neighborhood  _izakaya_ [1] she had frequented in her undergraduate days, close to campus but the opposite direction from where she lived now. She didn’t wait long. Kouga showed up before she had received her first drink, and the two of them were ushered to one of the many small private dining rooms, consisting of a four-seater table with leg-space built into the floor, surrounded by shoji screens. They both took their shoes off, leaving them under the step in front of the door, and settled down on the floor cushions at the table, across from each other.

              Two beers in, Kagome screwed up the balls to ask. “What happened with Ayame-chan?”

              Kouga set his glass down, and seeing that it was half-way drained, Kagome picked up the pitcher and topped it off [2]. “Ahh,” he groaned. “That broad was a control-freak of the worst kind.” He toasted her gratefully and took a sip off the foam in his glass. “You’d think as a relationship got deeper and more serious the more confident you’d be – but it seemed like the longer we were together the more she doubted things, and the more she’d try and control  _every little thing_.” He leaned back, propping himself up with his palms on the tatami mat. “It was good while it lasted, you know, but it couldn’t last long like that. We split like 2 years ago.”

              Kagome nodded her understanding and leaned in toward him, resting her head in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

              “Eh, it’s fine. I’m just not meant to be tied down like that you know?” He mimicked her posture and moved in toward her across the table. “What about you? Any conquests to speak of?”

              She blushed furiously, pulling back away from him and touching her fingers to her beer. “No, no conquests. There was someone – ”  _excruciatingly recently_ , she added silently, ”but it turned out he was already involved in something. Anyway I’ve been working hard, like I said. Not much time to play around.” She smiled sheepishly and wasn’t surprised to see his expression turn downright  _wolfish_.

              “There’s  _always_ time to play around.”

              Her laugh had his eyes dancing, and they clinked their glasses together.

              “Hey, it’s nine-thirty,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I know you said you had to get going back early. What say we finish this round and I’ll walk you home.”

              She giggled, charmed by his thoughtfulness, and brought her beer to her lips. “You can walk me home, but I’m not inviting you in,  _you dog_.”

              His eyebrows shot up and he snorted. “I ain’t no  _dog_.”

              By the time they passed the campus gates, her four glasses of beer were beginning to catch up to her, as she paraded jovially arm-in-arm with Kouga down the street. Everything he said was hilarious, and in the light of the moon, his clear blue eyes seemed to sparkle like diamonds. Not a few blocks later, they stopped in front of the konbini, and he seated her at the bench just outside. “Sit tight for a second, babe,” he said. “I’ll grab you a water, okay?”

              “So solicitous,” she cooed, and watched him smilingly as he ran inside to cater to her. Humming a little ditty, she turned her gaze up to the night sky. There were dark clouds beginning to gather again, a sure sign the rain would resume tomorrow, but a few twinkling stars peeked out between them, and she sighed her contentment.

              “Higurashi.”

              She lowered her gaze from the heavens to behold an actual angel, silken hair reflecting the moonlight and casting a glow all around him. “Konbanwa, Aotsuki-sensei.” [3]

              He stepped close, eyes narrowing slightly. He sniffed. “Are you alright?”

              “Mm?” If her grin didn’t give her away, the hiccup that followed did. “I’m sorry, I’m fine, thank you.”

              The automatic doors of the konbini opened up, and  a gust of cool air preceded Kouga out the parking lot. He pressed a bottle of cold water into her hands and tipped it up to her lips. Kagome greedily gulped it down. “Ready to go?”

              “Hm?” She swallowed. “Oh, yeah. Okay. Good night, Aotsuki-sensei.”

              Kouga looked up, made eye-contact with the man standing before them. “Yo,” he grunted in greeting, turning his nose up. Aotsuki-sensei’s eyes narrowed and he returned the gesture. “Let’s go, Kagome. It’s getting late.”

              She sighed and stood, and he pushed the bottle up to her lips again. Looping his arm around her shoulders, he started them off back toward the sidewalk. Kagome noticed Kouga glance back over her shoulder, and felt his chest rumbling, but she was too far gone to listen for what he said. She turned to look back too, in time to catch Aotsuki-sensei’s silhouette as it disappeared behind the sliding glass doors.

-+-

              Kagome woke up, warm and cozy in her bed, at half past six in the morning. She sighed aloud, and stared up at the ceiling. Last night had been surprisingly fun. She had always enjoyed Kouga’s company but she had never expected to fall so easily back into his pace. She hummed a little under her breath, surprised that her voice wasn’t feeling too sore.

              A soft knock at her bedroom door startled her, but when Kouga popped his head inside her room, she was almost too stunned for words. “Kouga-kun?”

              He let himself into the room. “I thought I heard you wake up,” he said, and settled himself on the edge of the bed, tenderly sweeping her bangs off her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

              She smiled, disarmed by the earnest expression in his face. “I’m good. I thought I said I wasn’t going to invite you in last night?”

              He smiled, that playful grin bringing two delicious dimples into relief. “You didn’t. Miroku did.”

              She groaned, closing her eyes. “Oh man. They’re going to think we hooked up or something,” she said, and her eyes popped open when she felt the pads of his fingers trace the curve of her cheek.

              “If they’re going to say it anyway, might as well make it true?” He offered, and brought his lips to her forehead.

              The sweet  _lub-dub_  she had felt in her chest when he had texted her yesterday came back in full force at the feeling of his soft lips pressing against her forehead, then her nose, then her cheek. She sighed, and his lips tenderly caressed hers. He shifted, bringing his legs onto the bed, caging her in as he propped himself up over her.

              Tender kisses became more heated, and soon he was kissing wet trails to her pulse point, then her shoulder, then nipping at her collarbone. She pulled the elastic from his hair and her fingers tangled into his dark tresses. He groaned, and his hot, wet mouth moved to cover the peak of one breast through the fabric of her bra.

              The sensation was lovely, and set her tingling all over, but a sudden thought of the dark-haired woman in Aotsuki-sensei’s office smothered the fire flowing through her veins. “Kouga,” she murmured, and then brining her hands to push against his shoulders said again, “Kouga-kun, wait.”

              He sighed and flopped over onto his back beside her. “You’re right, you’re right. Too fast.” His arm crossed over to cover his eyes and he groaned his frustration. “I’m gonna get going before the kids wake up, okay? I’ll text you later?”

              She turned to look at him, and the brilliant blue eyes earnestly peering into hers caught her off guard. “Okay,” she replied lamely, and felt her cowardice like a stab through the heart.

              His answering grin was all the farewell they exchanged, and he dashed out the door, kicking up dust behind him.

              Kagome waited to hear the front door close before she turned over and buried her head in her pillow. What was she  _doing_? This was so unfair to Kouga-kun. Her heart had broken yesterday morning, first at being shut down by Aotsuki-sensei and then at witnessing the confrontation between him and the unknown woman, and she had hoped catching up with Kouga would help to distract her.

              But this was  _not_  what she had in mind.

              “Get your shit together, Kagome,” she groused, and pushed herself up in bed. The sudden pounding in her head reminded her that maybe she’d had a bit too much to drink last night. “Get your shit together. “

              There was only one remedy for this lethargy and disappointment. A quick shower, a hot cup of coffee, and a trip to the library.

              With that cheering goal in mind, she rolled out of bed and went to get up.

              Within the hour she had settled down in her favorite corner of the library, source materials spread out on the table before her, working furiously. She had to work hard. She couldn’t let Naraku-sensei get the better of her again. She had something to prove and it was ridiculous how easily she had gotten caught up in Aotsuki-sensei’s kindness. Now was not the time for falling in love, and not the time to dwell on heartbreak.

              It was time to put her nose to the grindstone.

              She managed to stick to this plan for almost the entirety of the day, with two notable exceptions. Once, when Kouga texted her to ask her out for round two, to which she hastily replied that she was too busy but thank you for the offer. And the second time, when, maybe in her daydreams, she could swear that Aotsuki-sensei had walked past, an approving smile in his eyes.

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I have three more chapters written that I'll try to upload in the next few days.
> 
> [1] Izakaya: sort of like a gastropub, the name is a compound of three parts: i-zaka-ya, the verb for to be + sake + shop. Aside from beverages, there are multitudinous dishes to try, and the idea is usually to go and stay for quite a while, eating and drinking. I loved going to these in Japan. Side note – if you’re going to Japan, make sure of 2 things: that you always wear nice socks, because you’ll be taking your shoes off a lot, and that your feet don’t stink when the shoes do come off!
> 
> [2] An empty cup will always be refilled. When you’re done drinking, leave your cup full, otherwise someone will top you off!
> 
> [3] Konbanwa: the hello you use at night time. “Good evening” is a little bit stuffy of a translation. 
> 
>  


	7. 争事 Competition: You will lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for a fluff piece, somehow this story decided to grow a plot :/.

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Seven

_争事 Competition: You will lose._

 

              Muffling a curse, Kagome shoved the letter back into its envelope and tossed it onto her desk. This was the _fifth_ letter she had received thanking her for her application, but they had selected a different candidate for the internship and wished her good luck in her search. The _fifth_ one! When Myouga-sensei had recommended she apply for internships early in June, she had followed his advice and taken the time to fill out and submit all six of the forms he had handed her. It had felt like a lot of busy-work; she always seemed to be lucky with those kinds of things. But this letter was number five of six, and not one of them had come back as more than a generic rejection.

              What the _fuck_.

              It was already mid-July, and with only one application still floating out there, she didn’t have much hope that at the end of the month, when summer vacation started, she would have an internship waiting.

              With that thought in mind, Kagome picked up her backpack and hoisted it over her shoulder. Since her run-in with the woman she by now decided _had_ to be Aotsuki-sensei’s lover, Kagome became somewhat fanatical about her study time. She was at the library more often than not, and her hard work had been paying off. She was doing excellent work for all her classes; even Naraku-sensei had backed off when he saw that she was consistently churning out papers impressive enough to meet even his absurdly high and unevenly applied standards. So, with no outlet other than her studies, Kagome headed there again.

              “Did you text Kouga back?” Sango’s voice stopped her when she reached the front door.

              Kagome groaned. She turned to look back at her roommate. “Sango…”

              “Look,” Sango said, gesturing with her glass of wine from her position on the living room couch. “I like Kouga but I could give two shits whether you date him. Just,” she paused, thoughtful. “It’s super obvious he’s gaga over you. He’s always been gaga over you, I guess, but this time he’s like… _extra_. So be considerate of his feelings and be honest with him. Don’t let him trail after you like that if you’re not taking him seriously.”

              Slumping against the front door, Kagome fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you _know_ Kouga?” Her exasperation was evident. “I _have been_ honest with him.” She pulled out her phone and opened her text app. “‘Hey girl, you gotta take a break reading some time,’” she read. “To which I replied, ‘I appreciate the reminder, but school is my number one priority right now. It was nice to see you again, but I’m not thinking about dating.’ So,” she raised her eyebrows in challenge, “how else do you need me to tell it to him, or do you think the problem might lie in his willingness to listen?”

              Sango blushed her embarrassment. “Okay, that _was_ pretty clearly stated.”  She took a sip of her wine, assessing her roommate. “But I also seem to recall seeing the two of you making out on this very couch last week.”

              Now it was Kagome’s turn to blush.

              “I know you’re being consistent about what you’re telling him. In text and in person. So let me change my advice. Kouga is… you can’t friends-with-benefits Kouga. With him, you can’t kiss and not commit. He’s not Hojo.”

              Kagome groaned and leaned her head back, bumping the door. “You’re right. I know you’re right. Ugh.” She closed her eyes. “If I see him –”

              “ _When_. He’s been spending almost as much time as you in that library.”

              “ _When_ I see him,” Kagome corrected, “I will cut things off with him. Promise.”

-+-

              Walking to campus in the blistering, humid heat of the summer did nothing to improve her mood. Her hand, clutching her ducky umbrella, was sweaty. Heat seemed to roll off the cement of the sidewalk and lick at her calves, scorching her legs as she walked. While she eagerly anticipated the coolness of the library, she dreaded the possibility that Kouga had encamped himself there in hopes of meeting with her.

              But instead of Kouga’s dark-haired silhouette on the other side of the library’s glass entryway, there was a vision in white. Aotsuki-sensei – or the back of his head, anyway – stood out like a beacon to her. He sat on one of the benches, a book in hand, apparently engrossed in his reading.

              Kagome’s steps faltered, then stopped. She wasn’t prepared to face him. It had been nearly a month, but she wasn’t prepared. After that embarrassing – humiliating, mortifying – encounter in June, after they had kissed and she had run, after she had reached out and been shut down, she had studiously avoided him. She did not stop by his office. She did not borrow his materials. She did not write him drunken fan-emails. But she thought about him.

              Oh, how she thought about him.

              His deep, calming voice. His hands, passing her a well-loved book or a hot mug of coffee. His hands on her hips. The soft fullness of his lips pressed against hers. His hot breath on her skin.

              Yeah, no, she couldn’t see him right now. Or ever again, actually.

              One foot stepped backwards, and she began to pivot.

              “Kagome!”

              Kouga’s excited voice startled her eyebrows into her hairline. She tensed. A quick glance backwards toward the library and she saw that she had not been the only one to hear him call out. Aotsuki-sensei’s eyes locked on hers, and with slow movements loaded with intention, he closed his book and moved to stand.

              _Oh no. Run away._

Kagome turned back and faced Kouga, a weak smile on her face. “Ah, Kouga, can we, uh, can we take this elsewhere just for a second?”

              “Hm?” He sidled up to her cluelessly, wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and stopped her progress away from the library.  It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from glancing over her shoulder.  “Good timing, huh? Like synchronized,” he said. “Ready for another study sesh?”

              “Ah – um – ” God, why couldn’t she just put her words together into a sentence? It probably had something to do with the tingle in her spine, how she could feel the highly conspicuous presence of the man-god she had every intention of avoiding, looming closer and closer behind her.

              “Higurashi.”

              _Fuuuuuuuuuck_.

              Kouga watched her face as she momentarily squeezed her eyes shut in anguish before pressing her lips together as she began to turn. Beside her, he was eyeing Aotsuki-sensei with a tightness in his jaw and a narrowness about the eyes that was looked out of place on his usually carefree features.

              “Aotsuki-sensei,” she ejaculated, voice watery and weak.

              “Sesshoumaru, there you are!”

              Kagome glanced to her left, where the woman from before was approaching, before immediately returning to Aotsuki-sensei. His eyes were skyward, jaw working in apparent impatience, and then they were closed as he huffed a frustrated exhalation.

              “Ready?” Kouga repeated, and he tugged gently on her arm.

              “Yes,” she replied, cowardice lowering her head, and they shuffled past the others, into the library. She risked one last look out the windows to see the woman, bright red eyes and all, prodding an angry finger at Aotsuki-sensei’s chest. Kouga pulled her along as they turned the corner, and Kagome felt the relief drain the tension from her shoulders.

              Luckily libraries were a perfect excuse to keep her silence. She didn’t say much as they unpacked their books. She said nothing at all once she opened them. Kouga left unnoticed three hours later, having reached his limit of quiet time, and suffice it to say, by the end of the night, she had forgotten entirely about her promise to Sango.

-+-

              Not three days later, Kagome sat in a daze through her last class of the week. A letter had arrived for her in the mail that afternoon. Unwisely, she had read it before returning to campus. _Thank you for your application,_ it read. _However, the Summer Internship position has been filled_.

              When class ended, she stood and shoved her laptop and papers back into her bag. One last chore and she could go home and cry it out. She pulled a manila folder with her student ID number out of her bag and rechecked the contents. Her most recent paper for Naraku-sensei’s class, neatly printed, tidily stapled, and ready to be turned in.

              “Early again,” Naraku hummed from behind his desk, watching her as she deposited the folder in his drop-box. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk, settling his chin in his hands. “You’ve made quite a turn-around in your performance in the last month, Higurashi-kun. On your own effort even, it seems.”

              Kagome smiled weakly and brought her fingers to toy with the bauble at her neck, as she always did in anxiety. His eyes followed the motion, but he made no move to stand, instead cocking his head to the side.

              “Quite a fine jewel for everyday wear,” he commented.

              She glanced at the pink glass ball on a silver chain. “Fine?” She asked, puzzled. “My dad gave it to me when I was little.”

              “How kind,” was his monotone reply. “I heard from Myouga-sensei that you were pursuing an internship over the summer break. Any luck?”

              Gripping the pendant tightly in her hand, she took a shuffling step backwards.  This was more interaction than she had hoped for, and she couldn’t handle it in her current frame of mind. So, she lied. “Not yet, but I still have to hear back from… a few.”

              “Well, if you should find yourself unoccupied at the beginning of the summer, I have a position in mind that could make good use of you.”

              She stopped breathing. _This again?_ “Thank you.”

              He merely continued looking at her, expression blank, but red eyes penetrating, as though trying to look through her. Nervously, she excused herself, and was conscious of his fixed regard on her as she retreated through the door.

              Once outside, Kagome’s anxiety disappeared, swamped as she was with self-pity. Rejected again. Propositioned again. Would the man ever stop tormenting her? Tomorrow she would deal with her woes and figure out her next steps. But tonight was reserved for a little wailing and a little wine. She sniffled, pulling her loose hair into a high ponytail and off of her sweaty neck, and tugged on the hemline of her shirt to relieve the heat in her underarms before setting out for home.

              About a block from the konbini, Kagome was snapped out of her musing when she heard what sounded like a dog growling. Startled, she glanced around but saw nothing. A few more steps and she reached an alleyway. In the shadows, no dog, but a ferociously snarling Kouga stood there, teeth bared, fists clenched at his sides, staring down a calm, indifferent-looking Aotsuki-sensei. His honey-light eyes flicked upwards, and she could swear he saw her, though they immediately redirected to study his immaculate fingertips. Kouga didn’t seem to have noticed her, and Aotsuki-sensei’s gesture seemed to further enrage him.

              _What on earth…?_

              “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Aotsuki-sensei said, relaxing his arm and lowering it to his side, unaffected by Kouga’s display of aggression. “I fail to see your interest in this matter.”

              Kouga took a menacing step forward. “Way to fucking play it coy, dog-breath.” Fists raised, level with his hips now. “I’ve made my ‘ _interest_ _in this matter_ ’ clear. Long before you. So _back the fuck off_.”

              She watched with bated breath, pads of her fingers covering her parted lips. What on earth was going on? Slowly, she backed away until she was only just peering around the corner.

              “Hn,” the soft noise sounded like a scoff, but his face was impassive even as he took a step forward. Another step. Kouga’s center of gravity retreated, as he rocked back onto his heels and raised his fists.

              Kouga had been a ruffian in his younger years; he could hold his own in a fight. But Aotsuki-sensei was an academic. A stunningly elegant academic. He’d get ripped apart.

              Kagome blinked, ready to scream for Kouga to stop, but when her eyes re-focused, Aotsuki-sensei’s left hand was closed around Kouga’s throat, forearm muscles taut, and Kouga’s feet were slowly peeling off the ground as Aotsuki-sensei raised him upwards. Kouga’s hands were straining, trying to rip the fingers from their hold on his neck.

              Aotsuki-sensei leaned in, whispering something Kagome couldn’t hear.

              She was terrified. Terrified for her friend. Terrified of the stranger in Aotsuki-sensei’s skin. But still she hurtled her body forward into action.

              “What are you doing?” she cried, bursting into the alleyway, arms reaching as she ran toward the scene before her. She blinked.

              Kouga’s feet were on ground, and Aotsuki-sensei was a good five paces away from him, too far to have been assailing her friend. Kouga turned and smiled at her, casually, as though he hadn’t just been getting strangled. She blinked again. What…?

              “Hey babe,” he said, “What’s up?”

              “What… you were…”

              Kouga ducked his head sheepishly. “I was on my way to pop by your place to hang with Miroku when I ran into uh –” he turned and looked at the silver-headed man behind him in question.

              “Aotsuki,” he said, supplying his last name with obvious pique.

              “Right, Aotsuki,” Kouga’s tone was dismissive. “But if you’re free we can head over there now.”

              “What were you arguing about?” She demanded, crossing her arms.

              “I know his brother,” Kouga said.

              “ _Half-_ brother,” came the interjection.

              “There’s a history of altercations there,” Kouga expanded vaguely. “But I wouldn’t say _we_ were really arguing. You ready to go?”

              “No, I – I’m on my way out, actually,” she lied. Kouga’s nose twitched. “You go ahead and have fun.” With that dismissal, she was looking past him, at Aotsuki-sensei, confusion and a little fear still gripping her heart. She felt rather than saw Kouga’s lingering look, his glance back at the professor, the reluctance in his retreat. When the air was still around them, the oppressive heat and suffocating moisture in the air bearing down on them, she spoke. “What just happened?”

              “It is as the wolf says,” Aotsuki-sensei replied, voice dispassionate. He shifted his weight and started forward, stopping directly before her. “I have been attempting to catch you for some time,” he murmured, voice soft and warm, more like the voice she had grown used to hearing across the desk in the cozy space of his office. “But you have been elusive.”

              Kagome’s cheeks aflame, she sputtered, trying to come up with something to say to regain control of the conversation.

              All her efforts were rendered useless when he reached for her with his left hand, gently catching her wrist with his long, elegant fingers. She was growing less convinced, feeling their soft touch, that she had really seen those fine digits used as weapons moments before.

              “I’ve caught you.” His deep voice caressed her, and she was transfixed on his molten gaze. “There is something important which I wish to discuss with you. Come,” he said, tugging softly at her wrist, and she obeyed, following him with adoration in her eyes and not a thought in her head until they reached the lobby of his building and the doorman greeted her by name.

-+-

              Kagome took her shoes off and followed him into the apartment; a calming place, despite making her recall the last mortifying time she had been here. He went directly to the kitchen, uncorked a bottle and poured two glasses of wine. A guiding hand on the small of her back, he led her to the couch, watched her settle there, and sat down beside her.

              She took a greedy gulp of wine. The memory was too embarrassing. The situation too familiar. “You said, ‘something important’?”

              “Hn.” He chased the affirmative with a sip of wine. She watched in rapt fascination as he licked his lips. “A certain acquaintance of mine –”

              “The woman?” Kagome asked, immediately cursing her stupid mouth.

              “Woman?” Aotsuki-sensei’s right eyebrow shot up. Comprehension seemed to dawn on him immediately, as he took in a small breath and the corner of his lips skewed upward. “You mean Kagura. No, not her.” He watched as Kagome bit down on her lips.

              He knew what she was doing. She was forcing herself to stay silent. To not pursue him with another question, to not seek clarification as to _who_ Kagura was. She hoped that he would be merciful and offer the information freely, but his eyes, sparkling in mischief, told her she would be disappointed. _Ogre_.

              “An acquaintance of mine works for a museum company you may have heard of. Ginryakusha.”

              Her heart-rate doubled and she remembered her misery. Today’s rejection letter. In reality the internship at Ginryakusha had been the one that interested her the least, but as it had been her last hope, it was the one that upset her the most. She nodded and sipped her wine.

              “They have recently been processing applications for summer internships, and have filled them accordingly. My acquaintance there knew that I had an interest in procuring a research assistant for the summer, and forwarded me the information of a few of the better remaining applicants.” Kagome’s eyes widened as she felt hope begin to bubble up in her chest. Seeing her comprehension, Sesshoumaru forged on. “As I am familiar with your work, and as we have already established a relationship –” Kagome sucked in a breath “– as students of history, it would please me if you would take on the task.”

              “You’re offering an internship.”

              “Not a traditional one, no. Two and a half weeks, allowing you some time at the end of the break. I can offer some compensation, more than the minimum wage at least.” [1] He went on to explain that the focus would be research and materials organization, clerical tasks, and some general helping-out. It wasn’t quite the position she had hoped for, but he would make a good reference. Either way, it was something to keep her busy.

              She agreed immediately. It occurred to her, the second that the word ‘yes’ was left reverberating in the air, that not only would she have something to show for her summer, she also wouldn’t have to deal with Naraku-sensei’s offer from earlier. It also occurred to her that if she was working for him, she would be near him. A lot. Multiple days a week. Her cheeks burned.

              “Come by tomorrow to fill the requisite paperwork,” he commanded, setting his empty glass of wine down on the coffee table beside them. “Now then.” He pulled the wine glass from her hand as well and set it down beside his. His hand reached for face then, brushing her hair behind her ear before grasping her gently by the chin. “Don’t run away this time.”

              Her heart exploded in her chest when his lips touched hers. A soft, lingering pressure, before he gently introduced the caress of his tongue. There was a sweetness in this kiss. A tenderness. When she reached her hand up to rest on his shoulder, he pulled her to him, once more settling her on his lap, and the sweetness disappeared, replaced by a wild abandon.

              His firm grip on her rump scooted her forward until she was settled over his hardening erection. Then his hands ran up her back, under the loose-fabric of her shirt, tracing light swirls over her still slightly sticky skin. She brought her hands to his face, pulled her lips away from him and rested her forehead on his. A shuddering sigh left her as his nimble fingers unclasped her bra.

              Arms like steel bands around her, he switched their places. She, sprawled on the couch, and he, poised above her, taking in her state of disarray. Together they tugged at her top and pulled it over her head, then fumbled with the small white buttons on his crisp dress shirt. In that moment, looking up at him from below, he looked an angel. The light above them like a resplendent crown on his head. His silken silver hair cascaded around them, shimmering almost iridescently. His broad shoulders, the shadows at his clavicles, his well-defined muscles below pale, cool skin. Everything about him was other-worldly and beautiful, and she felt certain that he was a creature from heaven, until she looked at his eyes, molten gold, with an almost feral gleam, promising every earthly delight… and things darker and more delicious. Not an angel, but a demon. An incubus, set on his prey.

              Briefly, he ran a gentle touch over the chain at her neck, raising the pendant off her sternum with a hooked finger. He studied its pink pearlescent shine for a moment before he looked back up to her flushed cheeks and parted lips. His fingers discarded the bauble to rake the bra off her shoulders and tossed it aside. He made a small sound – a grunt, a hum? – as he studied her, and then he descended on her. Strong hands cupped her breasts, gently pinched and plucked at her nipples. Lips trailed a moist path from her mouth to her jawline, and when she turned her head, devoured her neck in kisses. Sparks of electricity flitted through her blood as he kissed and nibbled at her pulse point, down to her collarbone, over her sternum. His hot mouth licked its way to her left nipple, replacing his hand, which squeezed her flank and tickled over her tummy before lingering over the waistline of her shorts.

              A niggling awareness of reality came back to her. “Ah— Aotsuki-sen— ”

              “Sesshoumaru,” he growled around her breast.

              She tangled her hands in his hair at the scalp, and pulled up gently. He followed her command and brought his lips back to hers, left hand back on her breast, left knee sliding up the couch to bully its way between her knees and higher. This was heaven. But. “W—wait—” she mumbled around his tongue, bringing her trembling fingers to his chest, pushing slightly.

              He groaned and backed away, sitting back on his haunches, appraising his work. She sat up with him, delicate hand over his heart, secretly pleased to feel its accelerated tattoo below the skin. “What’s the matter?” His voice was gentle, and he reached out to her, bringing her body closer to his own so he could nuzzle her hair.

              “I’m – you’re about to be my boss, kind of, and – you’re a professor at my school and –”

              “Immaterial to the task at hand,” he murmured, lowering his grasp to knead at the soft globes of her bottom. His lips grazed the shell of her ear, and she squirmed.

              She wanted desperately to agree, but her sense of ethics refused to back down. “But –”

              His index finger pressed against her lips. Forehead to forehead, he looked at her through fine white lashes. “Hush,” he said, “and let me have you.” His free hand cupped her mound over her shorts, and her head lolled to the side. In one quick motion, he lowered his lips and renewed his assault on her neck. Now he worked the button of her shorts, then the zipper, and now he worked the material over her hips. His palm pressed against her belly and his fingers dipped below the elastic of her bright orange panties, fingers inching toward the thatch of black curls at the apex of her thighs.

              Kagome’s mewl of pleasure when he brushed over her womanhood echoed in the sparse room. He grunted into her neck and tilted his head up to kiss her. His fingers spread her delicate labia and traced them to the top where he teased the tightly wound little knot of her clitoris. Alternating between pressure and light caress, he toyed with the bundle of nerves, setting her to wiggling and moaning helplessly before him.

              For her part, the roar of pleasure in her ears and the sensation of his silken skin against hers had made her lose all clarity of thought. She rode his hand, gripping him tightly by the shoulders, tender nipples pressed against his chest, lost to the desire he strummed from her.

              Then his movement stopped. Abruptly, he wrested his body from hers, a snarl on his lips and grumbling roar in his voice as he made his way from the couch. It took Kagome a moment to process the reason why. His phone was ringing. Her disappointed mind came crash-landing back into the here and now.

              “What?” He roared into the phone as he brought it to his ear.

              Kagome couldn’t hear the rest of what he said into the phone, but she watched him as she rose from the couch and righted her clothing before scampering off in pursuit of her missing bra and shirt. Once dressed, she walked up to him tentatively and touched his bicep, pointing to the door.              

              He turned from the phone, covering the microphone with his palm. “Don’t run away,” he repeated, voice soft, eyes smoldering.

              “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He nodded, eyes on her as she made her way to the genkan and sat to put on her shoes. She would go home, have a long soak, trim and shave and exfoliate, and be shiny and fresh for him in the morning.

              The echo of his voice as the door closed made some of the spring come out of her step. “Your death will be your penance, Kagura.”

              She worried her lip, clenched her umbrella and her purse as she jogged home. Ugh. Kouga would be there. At least she’d be able to ask him about whatever it was that happened in the alleyway earlier.

              But when she stepped into the house, the rooms were dark. She flicked on a light switch, toed off her shoes and made her way to the bedroom in silence. Anxiety beginning to niggle at her to reflect on the odd events of the day, she reached up to her throat to squeeze her father’s pendant, but her hand came up empty. Eyes snapping open wide, Kagome lunged to the mirror as she groped around her neck and shirt.

              Gone. It was gone.

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interrupted again! I know, don’t kill me. They’ll get to do the nasty soon enough.  
> Footnotes…
> 
> [1]Minimum wage: Right now it’s around 825 yen/hour, which comes out to about $7.35/hour. So low!


	8. 失せ物  A Thing You Have Lost: You will not find it, Part I.

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Eight

_失せ物_ _A Thing You Have Lost: You will not find it, Part I._

 

              Kagome didn’t sleep well that night. At first, it had to do with the anticipation and excitement, the fluttering feelings in her belly when she thought of Aotsuki-sensei.  _Sesshoumaru_. Now that she had been given permission to think of him as such, she could not forgo the intimacy of using his given name. She thought of how his hands felt on her skin. His lips. The thrill of excitement that passed through her when he said  _let me have you_ , with that deep rumbling voice.

              As the night progressed, however, his deep rumbling voice echoed with more unsettling words.  _I fail to see your interest in this matter_. She saw again his hand around Kouga’s neck, lifting him from the ground in a vice-like grip.  _Your death will be your penance_. Who  _said_  things like that? Those little memories filled her with unease and she tossed and turned, occasionally waking covered in a sheen of sweat, panting and anxious. Then she would reach for her necklace to calm herself, and her hand would come up empty.

              She would have to look for it at his house tomorrow. And she would talk to him about it. She knew what she saw was real. He would have some sort of explanation for her, she was sure. So, fitfully, she would fall back asleep, seeing half-dream half-nightmares that would set her on edge, until at five in the morning, she gave up on sleep and made her way to the kitchen for coffee.

              There wasn’t much in the fridge, so she pulled out a slice of bread to make toast, while the coffee brewed.

              “You making enough for two?” Miroku’s voice startled her.

              Kagome looked up and gave him a smile. “For two hundred,” she replied, and leaned over to grab his mug from the drying rack by the sink. “I didn’t hear you guys come home.”

              Miroku seated himself on one of the kitchen stools and accepted the mug from her with a rueful grin. “Sango was back by eleven, but I was a little later. Had some damage control to do.”

              “Damage control?” She peered at him over the top of her mug.

              “Kouga,” he supplied, watching her closely.

              She colored. “Is he… did something happen?”

              Miroku took a thoughtful sip, eyes on his friend the whole while. “Seems he got a little roughed up in an alleyway on his way here looking for you.”

              She gulped. Not that she had even the slightest bit of doubt in what she had seen, but maybe she had a little bit of doubt in what she had seen. “I hope he’s alright?”

              “Nothing a few rounds didn’t fix,” was his benign reply as he set his coffee down on the counter. “He seems to be under the impression that he has a reason to argue over you, though.”

              Of course it would come back to this. Kagome sighed. “I’m  _going_  to talk to him,” she said. “Wait, argue over  _me_? That’s not what they were arguing about.”

              “So you saw it, then?”

              Ugh. Foot. In. Mouth. Kagome lowered her gaze. “Yeah. I mean. I know what I saw. But it doesn’t seem like it could be real.” She explained then, the conversation she had overheard. The strange things she had seen. “It doesn’t make sense, though, Miroku. I mean. Even if he had super-strength, which he  _doesn’t_ , people just can’t  _lift_  someone off the ground like that.”

              He was eying her thoughtfully, expression free of judgement, full of patience. He had a way of doing that, that made him so easy to open up to.  He knew how to listen in silence, how to set people at ease. If he wasn’t such a pervert, he could almost be saintly.

              “I don’t know,” she continued, sighing. “One strange thing.”

              “One?” He said, smiling. “I was under the impression that strange things happened around you rather regularly.”

              Kagome laughed at that jibe and moved around the counter to sit beside him. She breathed in the scent wafting from her mug: rich, dark.

              They sipped their beverages in companionable silence for several minutes, until Miroku spoke again. “You grew up in a shrine family, didn’t you?” Kagome nodded in response. “You weren’t very involved in the, uh, spiritual teachings and so forth?”

              “Hm? No,” she answered. “My father’s side of the family was a shrine family, so to speak. He moved from his family’s shrine up in the country when he was in his twenties, to care for the one our family has now, but he passed away when I was very young. My grandfather knew a little bit about the business and moved in with us to help out, and through a lot of self-study became rather competent, but it was touch-and-go for the first couple years.”

              His eyes were on her again, with that same thoughtful expression, though now his brows sat a little higher on his face. “That explains a lot,” he murmured. “My father’s line before me were all monks,” he said. Kagome hadn’t known this, and though the information surprised her, it made perfect sense. “There’s a lot that gets  _passed down_  that you might not learn if you’re new coming into the ‘business’, so to speak. If you haven’t been to visit your father’s family’s shrine, perhaps you should.”

              Kagome laughed lightly. “Maybe someday. I’m not really close with dad’s side of the family.” One more gulp of coffee and she was done with her breakfast. “You didn’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps and become a monk?”

              “Me, a monk?” Miroku scoffed, humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I have an older brother for that, thank Hotoke-sama.” [1]

 

-+-

 

              The walk to Sesshoumaru’s place took three times as long as usual, with Kagome’s eyes glued to the ground, scanning the sidewalk for her missing necklace. She didn’t expect to find it lying outside – she had it firmly in her mind that it was somewhere in Sesshoumaru’s apartment, maybe wedged between two couch cushions – but she opted to be careful, just in case. Things were more easily found by strangers outside, and she didn’t want to leave it up to chance.

              Despite her caution, however, when she reached the now-familiar façade of the building her dream man lived in, she was still empty-handed. She didn’t go in right away. It was early, only seven o’clock. Sesshoumaru hadn’t specified what time she should come, and having woken at five,  _two whole hours_  had already seemed an eternity to wait to see him again. So she waffled.

              She walked once around the block, pausing to admire the front of each building along the way, and discovered a cute café that seemed to specialize in decadent green tea parfaits [2]. She paused longest there, eyes on the menu, but thoughts in the clouds, imagining meeting with Sesshoumaru for breakfast there someday. It was a cutesy little place, so the task required some imagination.

              It wasn’t ten minutes later that Kagome was standing in front of his building once more, brow furrowed, worrying her low lip, debating internally whether or not seven twenty was  _too_  too early to show up.

              The question was answered for her when the front door opened, held open by the friendly concierge that always greeted her by name, “Higurashi-sama, Aotsuki-sama is expecting you, if you are ready to come inside [3].” There was a little humor in his expression, and Kagome blushed red to the roots of her hair. Quietly, she ducked in, and allowed him to call the elevator for her.

              She wondered if he had called upstairs to let Sesshoumaru know that she had arrived. Somehow, she still didn’t have his contact information. She would get it today.

              When she exited the elevator, the door to Sesshoumaru’s place was ajar. He really was expecting her. “ _Ojama_ - _shimasu_ ,” she called out, voice soft in respect for the early hour, and clicked the door closed behind her. The apartment was quiet, and she took her shoes off as quietly as she could manage. Pulling the strap of her messenger bag off her shoulder, she carried it in front of her as she made her way inside.

              Leaning against the kitchen counter, Sesshoumaru stood there, long silver hair tied in a low ponytail that was slung over his shoulder, black t-shirt taut across his chest, dark jeans, barefoot. He was the picture of perfection. “Good morning,” Kagome murmured. “Sorry it’s so early.”

              He inclined his head in greeting and made his way behind the counter. “Coffee?”

              The cup earlier had made up for the lack of sleep. One more would set her up for the day. “Yes, thank you.” She watched as he made his way around the kitchen, masculine form the picture of grace in movement. The coffee he drank was a notch above in quality, and the smell of the steeping brew made her almost euphoric.

              His hands pressed a white mug into hers, and she looked up to catch the shadow under his jaw as he turned his head to walk back to the counter. A lull washed over her, and she was overcome with a sense of lassitude. She remembered the first time she had seen him, in the library all those months ago: a pair of golden eyes peering at her from the other side of the library stacks. A similar sense of weightless anticipation had taken her then; now as she watched him in the early morning sunlight of his kitchen, the dreamlike state sent tingles to her lips and fingertips. Sunbeams kissed the top of his head and bounced off like a halo, radiant and mesmerizing.

              Sesshoumaru sat at the breakfast bar in silence, sipping his drink, and Kagome found herself staring. She felt hypnotized. What  _was_  it about this man? Her hand inched upward to the neckline of her shirt in search for the familiar feel of the polished pink stone, and its absence brought her back to reality.

              “Sesshoumaru,” she tasted his name on her tongue, oddly sibilant but still satisfying “have you seen my necklace?”

              He cocked his head to the side and looked at her.

              “You know—pink glass bead, silver chain? You were looking at it last night.”

              “I don’t recall seeing it after you left,” he murmured, chasing the words with a sip of his coffee.

              They looked together, but even as her desperation began to increase, her hands continued to come up empty. Frustration pooled tears in Kagome’s eyes, and she crumpled onto the floor at the foot of the couch. She sniffled. A warm hand settled on her shoulder, and she felt the prickle on the back of her neck that told her Sesshoumaru was behind her.

              Kagome shuddered as she reigned in her emotions. “It was a gift from my father,” she warbled, reaching up to sweep the tear from the corner of her eye.

              He pulled her back against his chest in a silent embrace, and they sat still until the tide of sorrow passed. His body heat seeped into her from behind, and in the cool air conditioning of his apartment, she leaned into the comfort of his warmth. Eventually, she touched her fingertips to his arm, and he released her. She stood, thanked him, and apologized for the display. Sesshoumaru, hand still on her shoulder, guided her into the kitchen and sat her down in front of her empty mug of coffee.

              “Paperwork,” he murmured, and Kagome nodded in assent.

 

              As soon as the ink had dried on the paper, Sesshoumaru’s behavior seemed to shift. The gentle touches in passing disappeared completely. Lingering looks. Poignant silences. All gone. Kagome had followed him to his office on campus, where he had given her a business card with his contact number, and a stack of books replete with sticky tags. Between the two of them, they had carried several boxes of materials back to his apartment.

              The one moment where she detected the familiar warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, was when he pressed his apartment key into the palm of her hand. His right hand cradling hers, he trailed his left fingers over her wrist, before laying the cold metal against her skin. His fingers curled around her hand, closing the key into her palm. She looked up at his face, saw that his fine silver lashes were lowered over his cheeks, bits of amber peeking out from between them, as he beheld her hand in his.

              “Under usual circumstances I would have you do your work in the office on campus, but…” the lashes fluttered and his eyes met hers, “these aren’t usual circumstances, are they?”

              Reflecting on it later, Kagome wasn’t sure if he had been referring to her difficulties with Naraku-sensei, which would make working in Sesshoumaru’s office uncomfortable, or if he was referring to the non-relationship relationship they had going on. ‘Course, even if she had noticed the ambiguity in the moment, she wouldn’t have been able to ask for clarification anyway.

              She spent the rest of the day on Sesshoumaru’s couch, laptop to her left, stack of books on her right. He had a similar setup on his kitchen counter. In the comfortable silence, filled only with the sound of pages turning, Kagome indexed his marked citations in his personal research database. Kagome made it home, eyes still trained on the ground searching for her missing necklace, after dark had already fallen. The house was quiet; Sango and Miroku were gone for a quick lover’s vacation over the summer.

              It was odd to come in to a dark apartment.

              The familiar ding from her cellphone pulled her from her daze. She flicked the light on in her room before she collapsed on her bed. Phone in hand and held over her, she opened her messages. Unknown number.  _Good work today_ , the text message read, filling Kagome with a bubble of happiness. Sesshoumaru.

              It dinged again, and the joyful smile faded a little.  _I need to see you_. Kagome sighed, dropping the phone next to her on the bed.

              Kouga.

-+-

 

              She debated with herself for a good thirty minutes. The first thing on her mind when she awoke was that she needed to get back to Kouga. But somewhere between munching on her cereal and washing her hair, she had moved on to other thoughts.

              One had to do with a pair of warm hands encasing her own. For some reason on another, she kept coming back to that one. She and Sesshoumaru had made out – twice, now – but the tenderness and intimacy in that touch was new. It was one thing to crush on him, making out or no. But now she found herself hoping, even finding ways to justify the idea that maybe he might be feeling something for her too.

              And that was a little dangerous.

              For her heart, and for her sanity.

              When she arrived at Sesshoumaru’s place, her heart twisted like a wrung-out rag to see that he was not there. There was a note for her, though, instructing her to get to work, that he would be at his home in Jiyugaoka today, and to contact him if she needed any help with anything. 

              Kagome sighed as she settled down on the center of the sofa, laptop on one side and resources on the other. The hours passed as she entered citations into the database. Periodically she would forget herself and get lost in the reading the materials. Before she was aware of it, the clock chimed four-thirty. 

              “One more,” she murmured to herself, even though it was almost time for her to call it quits. Kagome flipped open an older volume; it had a worn brown leather cover, hand sewn binding, and a lovely painted title page with beautiful reds and oranges. 'One more' turned into several more, and Kagome was just thinking about calling it quits again, when as she flipped between one ear-marked page and another, a rough illustration caught her eye.

              Carefully, she flipped back page by page, until she found the picture that had stopped her. It was a line-drawing, colored in with washes of grey and black ink. An illustration of a necklace: a small, round bauble, on a fine woven strand, with spaced dagger beads all around. Kagome knew this necklace. It was  _her_ necklace. The one she had lost not two days before.

              Her father had given it to her when she was barely four years old. The dagger beads and the length of the necklace made it difficult for such a small girl to wear, however, so her mother had restrung it onto a simple silver chain instead. Kagome still had the original strand in a drawer at her mother’s house, but she had been wearing it on a silver chain of varying lengths, depending on what was fashionable, for all these years.

              Fascinated, Kagome traced the simple drawing with her finger, before turning her eyes to the text. “Created in the Heian period, made from the four spirits, Aramitama, Nigimitama, Kushimitama, and Sakimitama [4], which in one soul have achieved perfect balance. Possessed of an ethereal, pink inner light, this jewel has been in the collection for one hundred and seventy-six years,” Kagome read aloud. There wasn’t much else written that appeared to be related to her necklace, which the book referred to as the Shikon no Tama. The Jewel of Four Souls.

              She had never given the origins of her father’s gift any thought, and though the idea of it being an heirloom made a lot of sense, given his upbringing, Kagome had difficulty swallowing that could also be an  _artifact_  of enough historical significance to be catalogued in a historical text. Of course, it could always be a reproduction though somehow, that idea didn’t sit well with her. There wasn’t much of a business for reproducing trinkets like that, back in those days.

              Now she wouldn’t know, of course, until she found it.

              Appetite for history mostly satisfied, Kagome closed the book and placed it back on the stack to her right. It didn’t take her long to put everything away, pack up her bag, and put her shoes on. Without Sesshoumaru here, his sparse apartment felt much colder than usual. She missed the soft sounds of the rustle of his clothing as he moved, the smell of his cologne as he walked by.  _This is no good_ , she thought, toeing off her shoes and walking back into the kitchen to where his note was. She carefully ripped the paper in half, pocketing the end with his clear, precise handwriting, and pulled out a pen to leave him a response.

              “It was an interesting and productive day. Hope it was as well for you,” she wrote, enunciating each word as she put it down, and then laid the scrap carefully near the edge of the counter, weighed down by an empty mug, before heading back to the front door.

              When the elevator reached the ground floor, Kagome hefted her bag over her shoulder, and headed outside. It was hot; true summer. Instead of heading straight home, Kagome found herself loitering in front of the building. Sighing, realizing how pathetic she was being, hoping to bump into Sesshoumaru by staying there in all this heat, Kagome turned left and made her way to the konbini. She needed to make time to go to the grocery store soon. Convenience store dinners were fine and all, but not more often than once a week.

              As she perused the bento boxes in the refrigerated section of the store, her phone dinged. She pulled it from her pocket and smiled happily when she saw the message on the screen:  _Do I need to tell you to go home, Higurashi?_  Kagome chuckled as she thumbed in her reply:  _Not this time. But I did leave a little late._

              A moment later, the screen lit up again.   _I don’t pay overtime_.

              Thoughtlessly, Kagome grabbed an oyako-don bowl [5], eyes on her phone as she made her way to the register to pay. She glanced up at the young man who took her payment, but then focused on the shadow outside the glass behind him.

              Kouga.

              He always had an uncanny knack for finding her, and she couldn’t blame him for seeking her out, though she hadn’t meant to ghost on him. Kagome tucked the food into her bag, lifted it over shoulder again and took a bracing breath before heading outside to meet him.

              “Kouga-kun,” she called out, waving at him with a smile on her face.

              On seeing her wave, the expression on his features went from dark to eager, and he stepped forward to wrap his arms around her in a hug. Kagome returned it hesitantly, patting his back for release almost immediately.

              “Sorry, I didn’t get back to you,” she said, pulling away from him when he still wasn’t letting her go. “Things have been busy with the internship.”

              “Classes don’t end for break until next week,” Kouga said, one hand still on her shoulder.

              Kagome didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. Her hand fluttered up the neckline of her shirt, and, remembering there was nothing for her to toy with, back down to her side. Nothing relating to Kagome was beneath Kouga’s notice though.

              “Hey, what happened? Where’s the sh—… where’s your necklace?”

              She started walking. “I lost it,” she grumbled, shrugging his hand off. “What did you need to talk to me about?” She glanced up at him, but the sight of his intense gaze sent her looking back down at the sidewalk.

              “Kagome, is – is there something going on between you and that Aotsuki guy?”

              Instead of responding, she sucked in a deep breath and held it, puffing out her cheeks. Planting her feet, she turned him fully to face him. This was her fault. She hadn’t led him on, but she hadn’t been explicit. Kouga was the kind of guy to misunderstand, because he was so freaking  _optimistic_. “Kouga. You and I are not dating.”

              He blinked.

              “I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they have between us,” she said. “Things are so comfortable with you I just got sucked back into that old pattern. I know that’s not an excuse. But I should have been clear before. We’re not dating, and we’re not going to date.” The brilliant shine in his eyes darkened, and his usually sweet gaze hardened. He brought his arms in close to his body from where they had been reaching for her before. A defensive posture. He was upset. Kagome sighed. “I’m sorry.”

              He turned his face away. Two slow, labored breaths later, he turned back to look at her directly. “You like him,” he said, and she could tell he was trying to keep the accusation from his tone. But it was an accusation nonetheless.

              “That’s neither here nor there,” she replied, voice even. Patience. Kindness.

               “Well he—he wants  _you_ ,” Kouga ground out, voice dripping with bitterness. “I can smell him all over you.”

              Kagome’s eyebrow twitched. She sniffed discretely but couldn’t smell his cologne on her. Of course, she  _had_  been sitting on his couch for the whole day, but even Kouga’s nose couldn’t be  _that good_. “He doesn’t want anything,” she replied. “He’s like a… a mentor. And he’s my boss.”

              “Your  _boss_?”

              Yeah, she immediately regretted letting that one slip.

              “You’re  _working_  for him?” Kouga took a step forward. “Kagome, you can’t keep hanging around him. He’s  _dangerous_.” That stopped Kagome short. “You saw what he was doing the other day,” Kouga continued, voice taking an almost pleading tone. “You need to stay away from –”

              “Kouga-kun, stop.” Kagome said, putting up a hand. “Look, you’re my friend, but I –” floundering, Kagome turned away. “I’m leaving.”

              He called after her, but Kagome determinedly kept her gaze forward.

              What the  _hell_.

              Mind muddled with unclear thoughts and plenty of expletives, Kagome trudged forward, entirely inattentive to her surroundings. As she was passing the façade of Sesshoumaru’s building, she was snapped out of the turmoil in her head by the sound of a car door banging shut.

              “Higurashi.”

              She stopped in her tracks. Of all times to meet him!  _How_  was she always bumping into him like this? Her heart did a backflip in her chest, and she tried to wipe the eagerness from her face as she turned to see the only person who could change her mood just by calling her name.

              “Hey,” she said with a little wave as she walked up to greet him.

              He looked at her, hands in his pockets, silent and expression thoughtful. Slowly he leaned forward, and brought his cheek to hers. Kagome felt her heart stutter in her chest. He wasn’t nuzzling; his touch was feather-light, and his hair, usually bound, now fell over his shoulder and tickled against her nose and lips. He straightened then, and the softness in his eyes was gone. His touch was still gentle though, when he wrapped his hand around her wrist and tugged at her. “Come.”

              Maybe she was a little obvious in her eagerness to follow. The concierge greeted them both, a sly smile on his lips, as though he was in on some secret joke. The elevator ride passed in a blink, and then his keys were jingling in the door.

              The whole time, his hand held firmly onto her wrist. As he entered the apartment, he gave her all off three seconds to toe off her shoes before pulling her along to the couch. Somewhat less gently, he toppled her over onto the cushions, and she let out a small squeal of surprise.

              Suddenly, he was over her, blazes lit in those amber irises, silver strands surrounding her and caging her in. Hand still on her wrist he pulled her arm out of the way and leaned into her, again, cheek to cheek. She felt the hot puff of air against her ear when he snorted a breath out. “You were with the wolf.”

              Kagome, thrilling in his closeness and aggressiveness, eyes clouded in desire, repeated dumbly, “Wolf?”

              “Your friend—Kouga.”

              “Yeah,” she said, and her breath hitched as he moved to her other cheek, pressing his torso closer to her.

              “He was  _all over you_ , “ Sesshoumaru murmured, voice calm but with increasing intensity. Kagome watched as he pulled back to gaze at her, and saw with some surprise that his beautiful face was contorted with a frown of displeasure, though his eyes continued to burn at her.

              “It was just a hug,” she said, slowly not sure why she was giving an explanation.

              Sesshoumaru pulled his phone from his rear pocket and grabber her bag from over her shoulder, tossing the two aside carelessly. “No more interruptions,” he said. And then he descended on her.

 

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes…
> 
> [1]Hotoke-sama: Buddha.
> 
> [2]Parfait: Okay, favorite parfait I ever had while I was in Japan: brownies, coffee ice cream, corn flakes (for the crunch), vanilla ice cream, azuki bean, shiratama dango (little mochi balls), and caramel and chocolate syrup. Please try it (even without the azuki bean and shiratama), and then thank me forever and ever.
> 
> [3]-Sama: Not just a suffix for lords and ladies, this is frequently used for clients, customers, and guests, or people of higher rank than oneself. 
> 
> [4] In case ya’ll need a reminder: Aramitama (荒魂, Courage), Nigimitama (和魂, Friendship), Kushimitama (奇魂, Wisdom) and Sakimitama (幸魂, Love).
> 
> [5] Oyako-don: Short for Oyako Donburi, literally “Parent and child” over rice. What “parent and child”? Chicken and egg. A little morbid. A little adorable. 
> 
>  


	9. 失せ物 A Thing You Have Lost: You will not find it, Part II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Content warning for smut. Skippable content; almost no plot. Just boinking. Skip to the AN at the end if you want to just catch up on the EENSY WEENSY plot within.

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Nine

_失せ物_ _A Thing You Have Lost: You will not find it, Part II._

 

             Kagome sucked a breath in as Sesshoumaru lowered himself over her. His phone clattered on the floor as it landed across the room, but his attention was fixed on her, and she was overwhelmed by the power of his gaze. Gently, his left hand touched her cheek, fingers trailing down to her jaw. He stroked her jaw with his knuckles, and then pushed upward, raising her face to him a fraction. “Sesshoumaru.” She gasped his name as he brought his lips down to meet hers.

            His kiss was electric. Soft, moist lips massaged her own in a series of sweet, chaste kisses. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Then his hand lowered from her jawline to rest on the side of her neck, applying a soft pressure to bring her closer. She reached up and wound her arms around him, fingers digging into the silken mass of his silver hair as it tumbled down his back.

            The moment she touched him, the sweetness vanished from his kiss. Hot and hungry, he licked at the seam of her lips and claimed her mouth with his tongue when she opened to him.  _Just enough tongue_ , she thought through her haze of lust. He didn’t linger inside her mouth, he didn’t lap at her, but alternated soft kisses with his lips and teasing with his tongue with increasing urgency as her fingers tightened their hold on his hair.

            Kagome was aware of the feeling of his body pressing her knees apart and settling on her. One of his knees was wedged between her thighs, carrying the majority of his weight; one of her legs dangled over the side of the couch to make room for him. His right hand travelled the length of her body, squeezing down her sides in firm touches that belied his intentions. He grabbed her hip and adjusted her position, in a self-assured movement that made her stomach knot in anticipation.

            “Sesshoumaru,” she moaned, pulling away from his lips, trying to reorient herself.

            “ _Be silent_ ,” he groaned, burying his face into her neck, nipping at her gently in rebuke. She felt a puff of air on her neck then, as though he were sighing, and was surprised when he moved away from her, torso hovering above hers, hair curtaining around them, and looked down at her with heated eyes. “Do you not want this?”

            “I –” She fluttered her eyes closed as he ran his fingers down from where they were buried in her hair, down over her collar bones and between the valley of her breasts, and further until they skittered ticklingly over her belly and stopped to rest on the button of her shorts. When she opened her eyes, he was still staring down at her, head tilted infinitesimally to the side, and her heart skipped a beat. “I want this,” she started, and before she could tack on the “but” that he likely knew was coming, his lips sealed over hers.

            “Then  _let me have you_.” Though the words were a request, there was a command in his voice that rung out. He would brook no opposition.

            She sighed, eyes closing as he kissed her again, and gave in. She wanted this. No matter what, she wanted this. They could figure everything else out afterward. His fingers were teasing the skin between the waistband of her shorts, and the ridden-up hemline of her shirt. Her breath hitched as she fought back a giggle when one of his digits ran a circle around her navel. She wanted _him._

            “Mmmn,” she moaned, as he ran his palm to her side and squeezed her waist.

            Her voice seemed to spur him on, and all of a sudden, he had pulled her up to sitting, and was tugging her top up and off, before turning his attention to the small white buttons on the front of his shirt. She reached forward to help, managing the lower ones and working up until they met in the middle, and then he surprised her, gripping her hands in his own and pulling her to him.

            Kagome collapsed against his chest. He released her hands immediately and ran his fingers from her shoulders, down her arms and then to her bottom as he nuzzled his nose into her shoulder, kissing and nipping gently at her skin. Before she could reach up to tug his shirt off his shoulders, he gripped her bottom and lifted her up off the couch.

            She shrieked, wrapping her legs around his torso as he held her aloft while standing. She slid down until her thighs were gripping his hips, and he carried her, still nibbling at her flesh, kissing her neck and collar bone, into a room at the back of the apartment. She knew it was his bedroom, and she wanted to look around.

But that could wait.

            Because just now, he was lowering her onto the soft fabric of his white sheets, and undoing the button of her shorts, and tugging both short and panty down her legs. And then he was wrapping his arms around her, undoing the clasp of her bra, and tossing that to the side with the rest of her clothes. He spared barely a second to look at her before climbing on the bed with her, peppering her clavicles with kisses, hands massaging her breasts, tweaking and plucking at her nipples.

            For her part, she wanted his clothes off now too. In vain, she struggled to push his shirt down his back, but his hands would not pause their work to accommodate her by slipping out of the sleeves. In frustration, she grabbed the sides of his face and moved him to look at her.

            “Clothes off,” she breathed, and he kissed her again.

            When she touched him next, his arms were bare, and she marveled at the texture of his silky smooth skin, and the movement of the muscles below it, which were surprisingly stronger than she had guessed. He was strong. Not just his arms – she passed her hands over his built shoulders, to his tight pectorals and down his chiseled abdominals. He had lifted her as though she weighed nothing, but she was still surprised at the feeling of such tightly packed muscle on so academic a man.

            His hot breath on her collarbone brought her back to him as he laved a path with his tongue down to her breast. She gasped as he pulled her nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily on her flesh, the fingers of his hand kneading at her other breast and mimicking the movement of his lips. She grasped his shoulders for dear life.

Then, his hand abandoned her breast and made a beeline between her legs. Her breath hitched and she curled into him.

            Enter sensory overload. His breathing, puffing on her chest, his tongue twirling around her nipple, his right hand massaging her lower back as he pulled her to him, his left hand at the apex of her thighs, making small circles around a slick, sensitive nub. The hands she had so admired, with their long and tapered fingers, were pleasuring her to death.

            She breathed in deep and took in his masculine scent, with that spicy cologne he always wore. She breathed out, and her stomach fluttered with his touch. A familiar tension was building in her mound. She moaned. With his thumb, he rubbed figure-eights over and around her clit, with a steady and firm pressure. Two other fingers teased at her entrance, dipping in slightly, spreading her, rubbing her slickness into her labia. Kagome knew he was still suckling her breast, but she could focus on nothing but the maddening steadiness of the movement of his thumb against her and the tingles and shivers that radiated from there.

            Sesshoumaru released her nipple from his mouth with a pop, and leaned up to press his lips to hers once more. She kissed him back, fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. A dull pounding was beginning to throb from her clit – she could feel her inner muscles starting to clench, and she knew she was close. But with his free hand, he pushed her away from him and down onto the bed, and then he released her altogether.

            His abandonment ripped an indignant huff from her throat, but his answering deep chuckle was a balm to her frustrated desires. She heard the rustle of clothing and sat up onto her elbows, to take in the sight of her nude Adonis.

            It was but a moment. In one moment she glimpsed the long, thick cordons of muscle in his legs, the round strength of his shoulders, the fine silver hairs on his chest and trailing from his navel down to –

            She gulped and squeezed her eyes closed.

            Sesshoumaru gripped her knees, pulling her to the end of the bed, until her bottom was nearly dangling over the edge, and pressed her thighs apart. He leaned over and touched his lips to her navel. Slowly, he lowered his center of gravity until he was kneeling before her; she felt his lips curl upwards into a smile against the skin of her stomach.

            “ _I-ta-da-ki-ma-su”_  he murmured, sounding out each syllable against her flesh, before he lowered his face between her legs, and resumed the work of his fingers with his agile tongue. [1]

            Kagome’s breath hitched and then gasped in, as his lips closed around her clit, applying a soft suction. The tender and over-sensitized nub of flesh sent out shockwaves throughout her body, and she was torn between pleasure and pain. “ _Sesshoumaru_ ,” she keened, trying to clamp her legs closed and push him away. It was too much!

            He released her, and laved his tongue downwards, lapping at her labia and then plunging into her. Encouraged by the steady mewling sound emanating from the woman below him, he licked and lapped within her, bringing his fingers to tease her clit, plucking and tapping. The contrast between the staccato movement of his fingertips and the legato laving of his tongue was driving her wild. Pulsing from within, Kagome panted his name. “I’m gonna – just keep – ”

            And he did. He pulled his tongue away but strummed at her until she  _came_. Stars exploded behind her eyelids, the rhythmic clenching inside her drawing out a long, low moan. Through the screen of her desire, she could see him lick his lips, a smug smile pulling their corners upward. His hands –

            Kagome’s cheeks burned cherry red. His left hand was working his member, engorged and erect against his belly; his right was pushing her legs apart again as he stepped closer in to her. She couldn’t help but stare at what she had only peeked before – the turgid flesh in his hand, slick with precum, bobbing up and down as he stroked it. With a grunt he pressed the tip of his erection to her, rubbing it against her clit, then lower, teasing at her dripping hole.

            His golden eyes flashed up to meet with hers, boring into her with intensity. For a split second, they lowered again to watch as he pressed forward into her, but then he raised them again to look at her face. Kagome sighed at the delicious intrusion. He was large; she felt her insides shifting to accommodate his size, the sweet sensation of being stretched from within causing her eyes to flutter closed.

            Hips forward and sheathed to the hilt, Sesshoumaru stayed motionless for a moment. He reached up, tweaked her nipple, palmed at her breast. The slight sting of pain initially had her squeezing down on him, and a delightful pressure building within her all over again.

            Then he began to move. Slowly at first, pulling out all the way, hand on his cock guiding it back inside as he pushed in to the hilt once more. The delicious friction as he teased her labia before re-entering her forced the air from her lungs in a long, low groan. He grunted in response, heightening his pace, withdrawing until only half of him remained within her before pushing back inside.

            The way he was holding her, hips tilted just so, he stroked against her G spot as he rode her. His fingers showed no mercy as he resumed his torture of her delicate clit, and Kagome collapsed around him, panting, moaning. A little more – there! – and she came again, hard, milking his cock with her spasming muscles.

            Her vision went dark. The tingles ran throughout her body, ending at her fingertips, which clutched brutally tight onto his forearms. He made a quick, strangled sound, as though he’d been burned, but continued to move over her. She looked up at him, the sheen of sweat on his skin reflecting off like moonlight, the dark roiling amber of his eyes; she felt him, still pistoning in and out, setting her still fluttering muscles and nerve endings crazy with renewing desire.

            She watched as he pumped into her. Once, twice. A short groan, and then another, and he lowered his body to her, eyes closing as he came. The weight of his body, the rhythm of his breaths, the smell of sex in the air…

            "Gochisousama," she whispered, delighted by the responding chuckle from deep in his throat.

            Again she was overcome by that odd sensation of floating that she got so frequently when she was around him. Kagome closed her eyes, wrapping her arm around him, pressing his face to her chest, where she was sure he could hear the rapid beating of her heart.

            He had to know by now that she’d lost it to him. She was in love.

            A dreamy sigh escaped her.

            They lay still for just a moment, and then he grunted as he raised himself above her. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, before moving away and disengaging himself from her. Still at half-mast, his length slipping from her sent the most delicious tingles throughout her body. As if he knew what he did to her, he released a dark chuckle before climbing on the bed beside her.

            Then her eyes snapped open.

            Oh shit.

_Oh shit._

            He hadn’t used a condom!                       

 

-+-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Plot recap: Sex! Oh no, she’s in love. OH NO DID THEY USE A CONDOMMM>???!?!  
> Footnotes…
> 
> [1] Itadakimasu: Literally “I humbly receive”, used before a meal much how “bon apetit” is used in French.
> 
> [2] Gochisou-sama: Literally “That was a feast”, used at the end of a meal to show appreciation for the food, much like, “Thank you for the meal”. 


	10. 商い Business: Do not be active in any transactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Omikuji…  
> They lay still for just a moment, and then he grunted as he raised himself above her. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, before moving away and disengaging himself from her. Still at half-mast, his length slipping from her sent the most delicious tingles throughout her body. As if he knew what he did to her, he released a dark chuckle before climbing on the bed beside her.  
> Then her eyes snapped open.  
> Oh shit.  
> Oh shit.  
> He hadn’t used a condom!

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Ten

商い Business: Do not be active in any transactions.

 

_He hadn’t used a condom!_

              That single thought swirled in her head, gaining momentum as she felt a tightness forming in her chest. What kind of idiot was she to not think about protection? She turned her head to face him and was stunned into keeping her silence when she fixed on his fine silver lashes spread over his cheekbones, and the look of total relaxation on his face.  The tightness softened, and she exhaled her pent-up breath.

              She immediately sucked it back in when his eyes fluttered open. Under his golden gaze, she lost her momentary composure. “We didn’t use protection,” she blurted, and then chomped on her lips to shut herself up.

              “Is that’s what’s been bothering you?” He asked, coming up on his elbow and peering down at her. “I’m clean. You won’t get pregnant.”

              She breathed her relief. Had he had a vasectomy? She almost asked but her embarrassment won out. “I’m clean too, but… neither of us knew that about each other…” she trailed off. He looked at her, eyebrow quirked slightly, as if to say ‘we know _now_ , so stop worrying about it’, and she felt a little dissatisfied with the whole exchange. He was being flippant about something that was _important_. It annoyed her.

              Sesshoumaru’s hand blocked her view of him momentarily, as he brushed her bangs from her eyes. The little electric shock that always seemed to accompany his contact skittered across her senses, and she felt that familiar, calming lull fall over her. How did he _do_ that?

              “What _is_ it about you?” She murmured, fluttering her eyelids closed and allowing his gentle caress as he combed through her hair.

              He didn’t respond, but she felt a hitch in his movements, as though he hesitated for a moment. Eventually, when she was perilously close to sleep, he stopped his petting, and she groggily pried her eyes open. His body was moving away from hers as he pulled himself to the edge of the bed, reaching for the discarded clothes on the floor to dress again.

              “You can sleep if you like,” he said, voice giving nothing away. She wished she could see his expression.

              “No – no, I’m getting up,” she replied, feeling all the awkwardness of the situation like a smack in the face. Ugh. All the worries she had had beforehand, which she had thrust aside so easily in the heat of the moment, were mounting on her shoulders. How would she find the timing to talk about their relationship _now_? Without seeming clingy or desperate or…

              They dressed in silence. He preceded her into the living room, and she took the moment of solitude to pull herself together. He was still her boss. And mentor of sorts.

              He had placed her purse on the sofa table and was sitting on the couch looking at his phone when she came out. She watched him for a moment before settling herself beside him. _Get over your insecurities, girl. Address this like an adult._

              “Sesshoumaru,” she started and blushed, feeling as though she were saying his name for the first time, now that she wasn’t, like, _moaning_ it. “We got a little side-tracked, but… was there a reason you had me come up?”

              He turned languidly to look at her, eyes boring into her own, hands lowering the phone into his lap.

              “You were asking me about Kouga-kun. Was there something we needed to talk about?” She tried rephrasing it, hoping for more of a response. Though his gaze was incisive, Kagome felt the return of the warm calm that had batted her anxieties away earlier. “And why do you keep calling him a wolf?” She added, a silly smile on her face as she imagined Kouga with fur and a tail.

              “He is not unknown to me,” he started, stiffly, leaning back into the cushions and steepling his fingers under his chin. “He and my half-brother had quite an explosive dynamic, in another life.”

              Kagome remembered hearing that. _“I know his brother,”_ Kouga had said _. “There’s a history of altercations there.”_ She nodded, and he apparently took that as a sign to continue.

              “Your friend is much like a wolf in many respects,” he gestured vaguely. “He has you pegged for a sheep and has singled you out from the herd.” He huffed through his nose, as though pushing away an unsavory scent. One hand reached out toward her, and gently grasped her wrist. Those little electric tingles hopped and skipped over her flesh and up the back of her arm. “I would rather you not learn of his true nature.”

              “So, you’re worried about me.” She was both flattered and affronted. Gently she disentangled her wrist from his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have known Kouga for a long time.” She scrunched her brows. “And I’m not a sheep. I can take care of myself.”

              “I know,” he said, his hand now settling on her knee. Those blasted sparks!

              “So you saw us on the sidewalk while driving home, and stopped me to warn me— … What?” The way his eyebrows shot up when she said that stopped her in her train of thought for a moment but she was determined to plow onward. “And somehow that turned into sex? No really, what?”

              The surprise had melted from his features, and into an expression of intense interest, as though he were studying her like a specimen under a microscope.  “You really have no idea,” he marveled, and a small smile crept onto his lips. He shook his head, as though clearing his thoughts, and then, with a squeeze of her knee, leaned forward to touch his lips gently to hers.

              Kagome started, and was about to pull back in protest _– you can’t silence me with a kiss! –_ but the gentleness in his kiss dazed her, and that warm calm settled over her, and she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad about it anymore. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, hands coming up to gently lie on his shoulders.

              When they moved apart, he stood, and pulled her up beside him. “Go home, Higurashi. It’s late, and I expect you on time tomorrow.”

              She blinked up at him, some of that comfortable lassitude dissipating at his words. “We need to talk about the sex,” she said, voice small but insistent.

              “But not tonight,” he said, and she could swear she saw the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turned away. She was about to stop him when his phone began ringing, and she knew the chance was lost.

              Grudgingly, she put her shoes on in the _genkan_ , glancing back over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He had disappeared into the kitchen, though, and the soft murmur of his voice in the distance was all she had by way of a goodbye.

              She made her way home in a fog. She wasn’t _completely_ disappointed with their talk, even though it hadn’t gone her way. And though periodically her mind jumped down the black hole of what-ifs and wondering, more frequently, it was playing a certain scene over and over in her head.

              His intimate touches. The feel of his body over hers. His hot breath on her neck. The way his voice vibrated over her skin.

              Before she knew it, she was stepping through her front door, keys jingling in her hand, and into her dark apartment. Sango wouldn’t be back until the end of break, and she really missed her friend just now. She trudged into her bedroom, not bothering to turn the lights on along the way, and sat down at her desk. She reached for the light switch, and knocked her bag on the floor.

              Mumbling a curse, Kagome bent over to pick up the lip balm, card case, keys and handkerchief which had fallen from her bag. She straightened, and opened her purse up to replace the items when a pink iridescent sparkle from within caught her eye.

              Breath seizing in her throat, Kagome dug into her purse, and closed her fingers around a familiar small pink bauble on a silver chain, neatly tucked into the bottom of the bag. She pulled it out and looked at it in wonder. Her necklace! Her relief was immediately overcome by a sense of foreboding. She had ripped her entire room apart, her purse included, when she realized it was missing. She had shaken everything out of her bag and checked every nook and cranny, and it hadn’t been there.

              So how was it here now?

-+-

              When she awoke, it was to the chirping of her phone, alerting her of an incoming text message. She glanced at the clock on her night stand and groaned. Fifteen more minutes! Burying her head into her pillow, she screwed her eyes shut. Her alarm would go off in fifteen more minutes. Just fifteen more minutes of –

              Her phone dinged again, and Kagome growled her frustration. She wouldn’t get back to sleep. So instead, she sat up, unplugged her phone, and flipped it over to look at her notifications.

              Kouga.

              She should have just stayed asleep.

              With a sigh, she unlocked her screen and opened his message thread.

              _Hi._ Was the first one.

              _So yesterday didn’t go well. I’m sorry. I want to apologize and explain. Would you meet with me?_ Was the second.

              As she got up and got ready for the day, Kagome waffled back and forth. She was of two minds about it. Their conversation _hadn’t_ gone well, it was true, and that wasn’t entirely his fault. Despite everything, Kouga had always been a friend to her. Maybe they could smooth this over, come to an understanding and be friends again. She should let him apologize, say his piece, and they could hash it all out together.

              On the other hand, they were both known to have a stubborn streak. He had upset her. He had _been_ upsetting her with his presumption, his high-handedness. His unwillingness to acknowledge truths that weren’t convenient to him. She had a feeling that if she were to meet him, they’d be talking against each other and the conversation would end without resolution, and with hardened feelings.

              There was also the little warning Sesshoumaru had given her last night.

              Although now that she thought about it, hadn’t Kouga tried to warn her about Sesshoumaru the other day too? Something like, ‘you can’t keep hanging around him, he’s dangerous, you need to stay away’? Which just brought back to mind the scene in the alleyway, when Kouga had been aloft in the air, Sesshoumaru’s fingers wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold. She was _certain_ she hadn’t been seeing things that day.

              She sighed. Something was going on here. Maybe Kouga wasn’t the only one unwilling to acknowledge inconvenient facts.  

              What choice did she really have? She was too softhearted and too curious to turn him away. So as she munched on her cereal, she texted him back. _Okay._ Would that do? Should she say more? _I’m sorry about yesterday too._ There. That should be enough.

              By the time she arrived at Sesshoumaru’s building, she had reconciled herself to her choice. She would hear Kouga out. She would dig for a little information even. And then she would talk to Sesshoumaru again – about the sex, and other things too – and she would figure out what to do and what to think from there. Hold off on judgement, Kagome! Wait for all the facts!

              “Ah – Higurashi-sama!” The concierge’s voice stopped her as she walked in through the doors, a little urgency in his usually sedate greeting. “If you would be so kind as to come this way for just a moment.”

              “Oh, of course,” she replied, approaching. She read his nametag. Tanaka. A ridiculously common name but she always seemed to forget it, even though he wasn’t exactly forgettable, with his knowing smiles and apparent intuition. “Is something the matter?”

               “Aotsuki-sama had an unexpected visitor this morning,” he replied, motioning her over to a little lounge to the side of the entry hall. “He has requested you to wait here while he handles the situation.”

              Kagome giggled. That was giving away a lot.

              “Can I offer you a coffee, Higurashi-sama?”

              She looked up at him, smiling, and shook her head. The corners of his brown eyes crinkled and he excused himself, moving to return to his post at the front desk. Kagome sat down in a plush leather chair, looking at the marble-topped coffee-table with its floral arrangement and tastefully arranged magazines. All magazines of substance, she noted – international business, high style, world political analysis.

              It wasn’t long before she heard the hurricane blowing through the lobby.

              “Get your mitts off me, you _mutt_!” Came a screeching woman’s voice echoing through the hall. Kagome stood and inched to the doorway, trying to peek out and down the hall to see who was raising such a ruckus. She couldn’t see much, but she heard the placating murmur of Tanaka-san’s voice.

              “You tell that asshole upstairs that he is in _big fucking trouble_ , you hear me?” the woman screeched again, and stepped into view.

              It was her. What had he called her? Kagura? Kagome felt the blood drain from her face and then just as abruptly flood back into her cheeks. So _she_ was the situation that needed handling? Kagome bit back a groan, fingers slipping up to toy with her necklace, now back where it belonged on the chain around her neck. What was _with_ this woman?

              She watched as Tanaka-san, now also visible, spoke in low tones and gently guided Kagura toward the exit. She looked fit to burst, color rising in her cheeks at the indignation of being escorted out, most likely. Kagome released a short, huffing giggle, and was surprised when Kagura’s head whipped around to stare Kagome down with near-laser precision.

              “ _Her again!_ ” Kagura ejaculated, reddened cheeks now turning purple. She clawed at Tanaka-san to be readmitted into the entry way, but he seemed to have reached the limit of misbehavior he was willing to tolerate.

              “Myouji-sama,” he barked, hand coming down forcefully on her shoulder and turning her bodily toward the door. The name made Kagome’s hair stand on end. Myouji as in Myouji Naraku [1]? “That is _enough._ I will pass your message to Aotsuki-sama, of course, but you _may not_ accost one of our guests.” She opened her mouth as if to respond, but he snapped the door open and with a palm to her back, pushed her through to the outside. “Have a good day.” The door closed behind her with a bang.

              Tanaka-san turned around and marched over to Kagome who was still half in the hallway, shaking his head and muttering to himself. When he reached her, though, he had a small, mischievous smile on his face again. “I do believe that the request was to wait _there_ ,” he said, gesturing to the couch well inside the room, “was it not, Higurashi-sama?”

              Kagome flushed scarlet and bowed her head in apology. “I hope I didn’t make too much trouble for you.”

              “No,” he said gently, and motioned for her to precede him back to the lobby, where he would undoubtedly call the elevator for her, as he always did. “Though she is always trouble enough.”

              Considering the fact that Kagura had just been upstairs, ostensibly being dealt with by Sesshoumaru, Kagome had expected him to be home when she arrived. But such was not the case. The apartment was empty, silent and still, everything in its place in its sparse confines. She wandered into the kitchen and saw that there was a note for her on the counter. “At least there’s that,” she groused to herself and picked up the slip of blue paper.

              The note was impersonal and direct. “In Jiyugaoka today. Please find reference materials on counter. Text with any questions. Let me know when you are done,” she read, feeling her heart sink. Dejected, she dragged her feet to the end of the counter where the references were tidily stacked, grabbed a small pile and made her way to the couch. She set them down on the sofa table, and then placed her purse beside them.

              She frowned, fingering the jewel on her necklace.

              Sesshoumaru had moved her bag here, last night. Could he have put it in her bag then…?

              But he had said before that he hadn’t seen it. That the last time he’d noticed it was when he was looking at it before they made out.

              It would just be _yet another thing_ to ask him about. But instead of lingering on that thought, she furrowed her brows, settled down on the couch and started her work.

-+-

              The coffee-shop door opened, and the accompanying tinkling of windchimes caused Kagome to look up from what she was doing on her laptop. Kouga. She glanced at her watch. He was early. As usual, she didn’t even have to wave him down – his sixth sense for finding her must have kicked in, because her zeroed in his gaze on her almost immediately. She shot him a wary smile and looked down at her screen once more.

              Quickly, before he arrived at the table, she saved her work and closed her laptop screen.

              She had found some more interesting reading today while indexing and organizing resources for Sesshoumaru. A lot of what was sitting in today’s stack of work had to do with the Sengoku Jidai, and buried between Sesshoumaru’s flagged text, she had found two – _two!!_ – entries about the Shikon no Tama.

              One was an obviously fantastical account about a warrior Miko named Midoriko, who sacrificed her soul in a deathly battle against evil youkai, thereby creating the jewel. It went on to say that the Shikon no Tama had incredible mystical powers and was a highly coveted item by demons and humans alike, because _of_ _course_ , it had the power to grant a wish. Apparently, it had been kept at a small shrine in then Edo, now Tokyo, under the care of Miko for generations, until it was burned with the body of one such shrine maiden who had died protecting it. It must have burned away with her remains because, per that account, it was never to be seen again.

              Until, per excerpt number two, it _was_ seen again, some two hundred years later. In some correspondence exchanged between two minor shogunate officials in the mid Tokugawa period, there was an aside about the appearance of a mysterious jewel in Edo, (the author of the text footnoted a cross-reference to the first citation here), which had been broken and was apparently causing some havoc as its keepers were trying to put it back together. She hadn’t actually even stopped at this excerpt because of the cross-reference to the entry about the jewel; that was a pleasant bonus. She had been skimming through the index when one of the lines had caught her attention. _Sesshoumaru_. She had gone to the referenced page, and the start of the entry made the mention of the jewel. “Sesshoumaru-sama, who as you know, has some influence over the region, has been active in the effort to contain the threat [2],” was the single sentence that had to do with his name. That was it. It was mystifying that such an insignificant line would be indexed. She’d never seen the name in any other accounts of the time.

              Maybe this was where Aotsuki-sensei had gotten his pen name from.

              She’d have to ask him. She’d always thought it was an odd choice for a pen name, given its illegality [3]. _I mean, really. The Killing Perfection?_ It would be different story if wrote horror novels, but for non-fiction? Odd. She should also probably ask him what his _actual_ name was, too.

              Her laptop clicked closed and the chair across from her scraped backwards. She moved her computer off the table and stuffed it into her backpack, using the moment to brace herself for what was next.

              When she looked up and Kouga was there, blue eyes glittering in their intensity as he stared her down, she steeled herself. “Hey,” she said, injecting the small greeting with as much warmth as she could without coming off as fakey.

              “Hey,” he replied, eyebrows shooting up. Maybe she’d overdone the warmth. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes skittering away from her, cheeks coloring a little in embarrassment. “Thanks for meeting up.”

              “No, I think we needed to do this,” she said, giving him a wry smile. “We were never the best at communicating anyway.”

              He let loose a little guffaw at that and returned her smile wanly. “Ain’t that the truth.”

              It was, in reality, the reason they’d broken up.  Of course, that was ages ago, when they were both still basically children. There were a lot of things wrong with that relationship. But their penchant for talking past each other certainly was one of the biggest factors in their split.

              Kouga settled into his chair, leaning back, then drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he looked at her. Lips pursed, he started out with, “so how do we want to do this?”

              Kagome smiled. “We’ve both apologized already,” she suggested.

              “And we’re both forgiven, I hope,” he said leaning in, his charming smile making her stupid heart flutter.

              “Yes. Both forgiven.” She moved away from him, resting against the backrest of her chair. Old feelings had this way of rearing their ugly heads around him. But she knew that therein was her big mistake. She got caught up in his pace far too easily. Not this time. “You said you wanted to explain something?”

              “I know it’s not my business,” he started, voice uncertain. “But can you tell me at least if you and… er – Aotsuki, was it? – are together?” She pegged him with a look, but he waved his hands to dispel her doubts. “It will help me be sensitive in how I approach what I have to say.”

              “That was the most stilted I’ve ever heard you,” she said, chuckling. “And how come you don’t remember his name? I thought you knew him from before?” Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her. “We’re not together,” she grudgingly supplied, voice low.

              Kouga nodded in acknowledgement of her response, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I’ve known _about_ him for a while, that like, he exists. But I never knew _him_ , just his brother. Who doesn’t have the same name.” He reached for the cup of water in front of him and took a small sip through the straw, gnawing on the end in thought. “I hadn’t met him in person until pretty recently.”

              Kagome felt her heart squeeze in her chest. Now they were getting somewhere. “How did you meet?”

              He glanced away from her and she could tell he was formulating his thoughts. His sparkling blue eyes looked lost, unfocused though directed outside the window behind her. “First time we met, I was walking this drunk girl home from a bar.” [4] He looked at her penetratingly, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “We exchanged a few words, then.”

              Kagome was trying to figure out what he was implying with that look of his. “When was this?” she asked, hoping to get some kind of clue.

              He rolled his eyes, and seemed to let go of whatever he was expecting from her. “Doesn’t matter.” Head dropping back, he let out a small groan. “This is hard.” He raised his head again and met her eyes, that wry, charming smile on his lips again. “I’m trying to explain this to you in a way that you’ll take me seriously, and not think that I’m just on some jealous trip.”

              She heard the mantra she had told herself earlier – hold off on judgement, Kagome! Wait for all the facts! – as it repeated in her head a few times in a row. “ _Are_ you on a jealous trip?”

              “Yes,” he replied, his honesty startling her. “Fuck, _yeah,_ I am. But even if I wasn’t, I would still be having this conversation with you.” He covered his blush with a cough. “Even if I hated your guts, I’d still be talking about this.”

              This response mollified her, and she felt less inclined to be defensive. More inclined to let him say his piece. So she lowered her hands from where they were crossed over her chest and placed them on the table gently. “I’ll do my best to listen without judging.”

              There was no hiding her surprise when he reached across the table and gave her hands a gentle squeeze in thanks. “You know about _us_ , right?”

              “You and Aotsuki-sensei?” She asked, careful not to use his first name. “Just what you’ve told me.” _He should know that, though. We were_ just _talking about it._ She shook her head. _Stop judging._

              He held his breath for a beat, like that was not the response he was expecting. “Right.” Kouga expelled his breath and released her hands, bringing his own into his lap. He fidgeted for a moment. “So – we met once. Then I saw him once on campus. You were there – it was outside the library. We were meeting for a study group.” [5] “Then the last time I met him, it was off campus.”

              Kagome’s heart stuttered in her chest. She sucked in some air and stilled, hanging on for him to continue.

              “We got into a little… argument.” He scratched the back of his neck, glanced out the window again. Embarassed. “Over… a girl. It was pretty one-sided on my part.” Now his gaze cast downward. “Seems like it’s always that way,” he grumbled.

              “Wait, what?” Kagome was dumbstruck. They were arguing over a _girl_?

              Kouga related, in halting utterances and painful detail, how he had noticed Sesshoumaru “ _sniffing around_ ” someone he knew well and kept an eye out for, and when he’d seen the man himself off campus, he couldn’t resist acting on his “ _protective instincts”._ Kagome was paying attention as best she could, but her mind kept coming back to the idea that they had argued _over a girl_ , and she was desperately attempting to figure out just exactly _who_ that could be, if she even knew her, and desperately hoping that maybe there existed a chance that it might be _her._ While her cogs turned, he continued.  He had asked Sesshoumaru if he was, in fact, _interested_ in said woman, to which he had not received a straight answer.

              _“Perhaps, perhaps not.”_ The response echoed in her mind as the wheels in Kagome’s mind kicked into high gear.

              Kouga continued:

 

>                             “Perhaps, perhaps not. I fail to see your interest in this matter,” the bastard said, and he was so freaking relaxed about the whole thing.
> 
>                             Kouga took a menacing step forward. “Way to fucking play it coy, dog-breath.” He raised his fists, sending a specific message. “I’ve made my ‘ _interest_ _in this matter_ ’ clear. Long before you. So _back the fuck off_.” He’d been watching out for… _this girl_ … for a while, and some mangy nobody wasn’t going to step in and make a mess of things for her on some stupid whim.
> 
>                             Aotsuki scoffed and took a step forward. And another. So they were really going to do this? He just wanted an answer to a simple question, but if this idiot wanted to get physical about it, Kouga was ready. He crouched. Before he could do anything, though, Aotsuki’s hand shot out and closed around his throat, hoisting him off the ground. _Damn this motherfucker was fast!_ He brought his hands to Aotsuki’s wrists and clawed at him to pry his fingers away.
> 
>                             Aotsuki leaned in. “You’re not strong enough to take what I want away from me. Not that she’d even let you try.”

Here, he paused, finally looking up at Kagome, eyes searching as though trying to gauge her reaction. “Then _you_ showed up.” He fidgeted. “We played if off… but what you saw… I heard from Miroku that you were doubting what you saw. But you weren’t wrong.”

              She suddenly couldn’t look away from her fingers, which she curled around each other and nestled in her lap.

              “This is the kind of person, who, just because he’d been asked to back away from someone that he wasn’t even willing to admit an interest in, reacted by _assaulting_ me.” His voice was firm. Kagome’s vision wavered for a second. “He’s a pretty boy, so he hides it well, but…” She felt Kouga lean in toward her and was helpless to meet his gaze. “He’s _dangerous_.”

              “I…” She didn’t know why it made her head spin so much to have those fears confirmed. That it _hadn’t_ been a dream. What he described jibed with what she remembered. Maybe the adrenaline of the moment was what made it all seem to happen so quickly. But it _had_ happened, apparently. “I believe you…” she hedged, struggling for words. “But Aotsuki-sensei and I have had a good relationship. He’s looked out for me at school. He offered me a job –” she held her tongue regarding the earthly delights they had shared – “so while I believe you, I’m just… not so sure that a disagreement you two had over a woman has anything to do with how he would treat _me_.”

              It was the best she could come up with, but it sounded dumb even to herself. That’s all that she could think when she saw the incredulous way his lips parted and eyebrows darted up.

              Kouga groaned. “You’re just…” and then he laughed. “You’re such a cinnamon roll.”

              “What?”

              He laughed again as his eyes darted over her face. Affection was clearly written on his expression, and he reached out, touching his fingertips to her cheek for a moment. “You’re dying to ask who we were fighting over.”

              Kagome was sixty thousand percent certain that her face erupted into flames at that suggestion.

              Something outside the window seemed to catch his attention, and then his gaze flitted back to her face. That scheming, charming smile spread over his lips. “I’ll tell you, on one condition.”

              “Condition?”

              After the fact, she wasn’t sure if she would have accepted the condition, especially since he didn’t tell her anyway.

              But he hadn’t really given her much of a choice. Kouga had that way about him.

              He gave her that dazzling, wolfish smile, and her stupid heart jumped up in her chest.

              Kouga leaned over and captured her lips with his.

              And then, traitorous heart hammering in her chest, for the briefest of moments, Kagome closed her eyes.                               

 

-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: OKAY SO HERE’S AN UPDATE, PERFECTLY ON TIME IN THE FIRST FEW DAYS OF DECEMBER. Not. I’m sorry guys. This took forever. I know. I have no excuse. BUT. I have the ENTIRE REST OF THE STORY plotted out. Only a handful and some change of chapters left. And I’m planning on having ALL of them out before June. Earlier than that if I can swing it. So thanks for sticking with me!  
> Footnotes…  
> [1] Myouji Naraku: Okay I know I’ve gone back and forth with name order like fifty times now. Traditionally, in Japanese, it’s Family name first, then given name. Higurashi Kagome. Aotsuki Sesshoumaru. Myouji Naraku. I’ve used western name order a lot because I’m writing in English but it really grates on me, and I’m giving that up forever now. From now on, all names in Japanese order. I’m just too laaaaazy to go back and fix the previous chapters.  
> [2] “Some influence over the region”: Were you aware that Sesshoumaru’s having the title of “Lord of the Western Lands” is a hotly debated topic? Apparently, there’s a big fanon/canon disagreement. See: http://inuyasha.wikia.com/wiki/Talk:Lord_of_the_Western_Lands  
> [3] So in Japan, there are government regulations regarding which characters can be used in a child’s name. These are called Jinmeiyou characters and kanji (人名用漢字), and unsurprisingly “殺” (read as “satsu/setsu” or “korosu” and meaning to kill) which is the first character in Sesshoumaru’s name (殺生丸), is not a legal character for a person’s name nowadays. “丸” read as “maru” at the end of his name, which was apparently common in the names of high-born boys back then, is not included in the list nowadays either, that I could find. Feel free to correct me if you know differently!  
> [4] See chapter 6! If it’s not clear, Kagome doesn’t remember. She was pretty far gone.  
> [5] See chapter 7.


	11. 旅立ち Travel: Avoid travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A loooooot of exposition in this chapter! Bear with me!

 

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Eleven

_旅立ち Travel: Avoid travel._

              It took less than fifteen minutes after she left the café and got home for the text messages to start rolling in. Kagome resolutely ignored them all. Four from Sango. Sixteen (!) from Miroku. She did finally unlock her phone to look at her messages, though, when one chimed in from Sesshoumaru.

              _Seems like you’ve been fairly busy today_ , she read.

              A small smile flitted over her features, as she considered the various ways she could reply to that. She settled on, _Busy enough for two people!_ Even though it was a little lame, but just as she was pressing the send button, an incoming call alert lit up on her screen.

              Her thumb touched down, and she inadvertently picked up. She looked at the caller ID. Miroku. _Aaaaaaah._ “Hey there,” she said, bringing the phone to her ear.

              “Kagome!” He replied, and she could feel the frustration in his voice. “Did you read my messages? Or Sango’s?”

              “I _just_ got home and was about to when you called. Why? What’s up?” It was technically the truth. She rearranged herself on the couch to make herself a little more comfortable.

              “What did you do to Kouga!”

              The scorn in his voice made Kagome jump. “What? What do mean?” She sat a little straighter. “We met for coffee and a talk, and things went actually pretty well, I thought!” There was a pause. She heard a sigh. “What? What did he say?”

              Miroku’s voice was pained as he made a few false starts. “Well, to be honest,” he finally managed, “he hasn’t said much. But he’s like, nearly catatonic.”

              Kagome leaned forward in her seat. “Well.” She reviewed their conversation mentally. The moment he kissed her. How he had sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and turned an interesting shade of red and green all at once. How he had mumbled something about a parting kiss. They had looked at each other awkwardly and – oh, shoot, he never told her who he and Sesshoumaru had been fighting about! – and how he had asked her to think about what he’d said, before brushing one last kiss over her knuckles and dashing away. “I mean, maybe he’s finally realized that I meant it when I said we weren’t going to be dating?”

              She heard shuffling. “Maybe,” he said. “Really, nothing happened?”

              “As far as I know, we had a great, productive conversation. We forgave each other for our last argument. He told me his concerns about Se—Aotsuki-sensei, and I gave him his due. And then we parted on friendly terms.” So this left a lot of the crucial details out, but she wasn’t going to flaunt her weakness to Miroku. She didn’t think of herself as the easily swooning type, anyway. Only Kouga and Sesshoumaru seemed to have this effect on her. She could forgive herself for falling into the trap of those old feelings, just one last time.

              “He didn’t talk about… his _family_?”

              “His family?” Kagome asked. “Why would he talk about that?”

              Miroku made a noise like a strangled grunt. “You need to visit your dad’s shrine,” he replied, which only heightened her confusion. It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested it, but this was one non-sequitur after another. “Okay. Well I’ll let you know if he, you know, comes back to life or not.” Miroku _sounded_ like he was frowning, but she knew that it was from concern for his friend.

              They hung up. She sent her text message to Sesshoumaru. After an hour of radio silence, she forced herself to stop waiting for a reply.

-+-

              Only three days remained in the summer break, and Kagome had not seen hide nor hair of her erstwhile lover and boss. His texts had become few and far between, and entirely business-like in nature. She didn’t understand what had happened. The last she’d seen him, he had made love to her and given her cause to hope for more. Now, it was like nothing had ever happened between them. Like even their intellectual connection had been severed. He had basically ghosted her.

              It made her confused, and bitter, and heartbroken, and she found herself crying on his couch during work and on her couch on her off-time, too. But as the days passed, and she neared the end of the stack of work he had left for her, she pulled herself together. She wasn’t going to let the churning in her heart affect her performance. She wasn’t going to let her sorrow rule her.

              So, she buckled down once more, ploughed through her tasks, and kept her correspondence cordial and professional. And now, today, she placed the references in a tidy stack with the laptop beside them, and a handwritten note thanking the professor for allowing her to work for him, for the experience, and all of the other proper sentiments that one expresses when they hope to get a good recommendation letter from an employer.

              That she had fucked.

              _Fuuuuuuuuuck_.

              But she kept it together as she lay the house key he had given her on top of the laptop, and then turned off the lights. When she reached the lobby below, Tanaka-san was behind the desk as usual. She approached him with a watery smile and bowed deeply. “Thank you for taking care of me [1],” she murmured, and gave him a dazzling smile.

              He returned her bow and expressed his wish that they might meet again, a sly smile in his eyes, and then he winked. “Aotsuki-sama will no doubt share the sentiment.”

              Kagome blushed, mortified, but gave him another sweet smile before departing.

              When she breathed in the warm summer air outside the building, she felt momentarily overcome. She needed to get away. The little seed that Miroku had planted in her mind seemed to take root. Pulling her phone from her purse, she waited the for line to connect before starting her walk back home.

              The line connected. “Mama?” Kagome said, emotional exhaustion flooding her voice. “Can you give me Aunt Mariko’s number? I think I want to go and visit.”

              She hadn’t been joking when she told Miroku that she wasn’t close to her father’s family. Auntie Mariko was the only one she was close with to any degree and even that association was tenuous at best. There was no enmity between them, they just hadn’t made an effort to stay close after Kagome’s father died.

              But Mariko had been surprisingly receptive and eager for Kagome to come to visit. So the day after she turned the keys in at Sesshoumaru’s apartment, she packed up her suitcase and hopped on a bullet train, then a regional train, and then two buses, heading up north visit Mariko-oba-san [2].

              In the northern edge of Gunma prefecture, in central Honshuu, in a small mountain-side town consisting of mainly hot-spring hotels and artisanal shops, was the small family-run shrine where Kagome’s father had grown up. Mariko was in charge of it now, along with her husband, Kenji, and their oldest son Ichiro. The younger sons, a few years older than Kagome, had apparently moved out to the city after graduating high school.

              Kagome knew this was pretty back-country. She didn’t remember much about this place from her childhood, but she remembered coming away with the _distinct_ impression that things were significantly slower out here. But when she got off the bus at the bus station, she was surprised at how few people were around, and generally cold everyone seemed. She nodded in greeting to the lady at the ticket counter, but in return received a flat, tight-lipped stare. Typically, she would take one _last_ bus the final stretch of the way to the shrine, but her aunt had promised to meet her and pick her up, and save her the 820 yen fare. So, Kagome settled in, leaning against a light-post, trying not to make eye-contact with the passers-by, who like ticket-counter-lady, were pinning their icy stares on her.

              “Kagome-chan?” A soft, feminine voice called out to her. Kagome turned, and nearly melted in relief at the sight of a smiling, familiar-looking face.

              “Mariko-oba-san!” She grabbed the handle of her carry-on and approached the older lady, stopping short to give a small bow. “It’s been a while! Thank you for picking me up!”

              “Of course!” Mariko replied, gesturing for Kagome to follow her to the parking lot, with its grand total of six parking spots. “Come along. It’s a short drive home. Are you hungry at all?”

              They made idle chatter as they drove up winding roads further into the mountain. Kagome was charmed by the distinct rurality of it all; as a city girl, she had never seen such small, quaint farms, with their little livestock, as she had on the train ride, or driven through such dense forest, so quiet and yet brimming with life, the way she was now.  Eventually the treeline broke and they drove through a narrow street lined with dilapidated little buildings that looked as though they were built in another age. She delighted in how run-down the buildings appeared, their patina adding to their attraction, to the sense that this place had been here _forever_.

              “It’s difficult now,” Mariko mused. “All the young ones run away to the city. Nobody wants to live in the country anymore.”

              Kagome hummed in acknowledgement, and looked back out the window. The car was slowing, and they pulled to a stop in one of four empty parking spots at the end of a narrow bridge, crossing a rocky river. At the far end of the bridge were the torii gates, marking the entrance to the shrine beyond. It was a modestly sized building, with a cozy-looking family home behind it. Kagome looked over the side of the bridge and took a lungfull of the sweet summer air. So different than in the city.

              Mariko guided Kagome into the traditional-style house and showed her into the guest bedroom where she would be staying. The tatami was worn in, and the room was small, but she delighted in it all nonetheless.

              “You get settled in, and I’ll bring lunch in a moment.”

              When Mariko returned, it was with a tray of sandwiches for two, a pot of coffee and one of water, and an array of onigiri. She set the tray down on the small table, and the both of them settled on the floor to eat with a quiet _itadakimasu_.

              Kagome fiddled with her necklace for a moment before reaching for a sandwich, and her aunt’s eyes caught the motion. “I see you wore the Shikon no Tama,” Mariko said, before taking a sip of her coffee. “Is that why you came to visit?”

              Head jerking up, Kagome met her aunt’s eyes. “Is it the real one?” She asked.

              Mariko seemed puzzled. “Your father didn’t tell you?”

              “Tell me what?”

              Mariko set her coffee cup down, concern furrowing her brows. “Didn’t he teach you about our family, Kagome-chan?”

              “ _What_ about us?” She asked, voice tremulous.

              Mariko pushed her coffee to the side. “Oh dear.”

              As it turned out, it _was_ the real Shikon no Tama – the one Kagome had read about in Aotsuki-sensei’s resources. And according to her aunt, a lot of what she had read was supposed to be true. It _had_ been a powerful artifact, back in its day, it _had_ disappeared after being burned with the body of its guardian priestess, and some two hundred years later, it _had_ reappeared mysteriously only to be shattered, somehow. After all the pieces were collected, a powerful priestess in their family line had fused all of the pieces back together, using her spiritual energy, her _reiki_. When Kagome had asked, making the best effort to could to keep all skepticism from her voice, if a wish was ever made on it, Mariko shook her head sadly. “Something changed in the stone, after all was said and done.” She reached forward and tapped the jewel, now on the table between them. “Once it was purified, it apparently lost all its magical ability. Our family has been the keeper of the jewel since those days. Not that there’s much need to protect it anymore.” She gave Kagome a watery smile. “If there was, there’s no way Nobuhiko would have given it to you when you were so young.”

              _Nobuhiko_. Her father. Kagome gave her aunt a watery smile in return. Her gaze returned to the shiny pink bauble. “But it’s still worth something as an artifact. It should be in a museum,” she said.

              Mariko giggled, apparently taking Kagome’s statement as a joke. “Of course, museums take great care to keep miko on their security staff!”

              “Miko?” Kagome repeated. “Why would museums need shrine maidens on their security staff?” Mariko’s giggle stopped immediately, and her brows furrowed again. Her deep brown eyes bore into Kagome, and Kagome shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Oba-san?”

              Mariko put her hands into her lap and lowered her gaze. “Oh dear.”

 

 

              “No.” Kagome said, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head decisively. “There’s no way that _youkai are real_.”

              “Kagome-chan –”

              “Immortal demons with supernatural powers? Not possible.”

              Mariko thinned her lips and started putting dishes back onto the lunch tray. “I see you need some time to reflect on all this information. It’s frankly astounding to me that Nobuhiko was _so negligent_ in your education,” she murmured the last part more to herself. “Think on it some and we’ll talk about it more later. Dinner is at five-thirty. Feel free to explore until then.” With that, Mariko left the room.

              Kagome flopped back onto the tatami mat and let loose a long, slow sigh. She closed her eyes. Mariko was asserting that the youkai of myth weren’t really _of myth_ so much as a reality, and even a contemporary reality at that. _Youkai_! She scoffed.

              Youkai.

              With boundless physical strength. And superhuman senses. And supernatural powers.

              Her stomach turned.

              No way.

_But then maybe –_

              As Kagome thought it over, she recalled several recent events, and some further back in her memory, which seemed to support her aunt’s assertion.

              But that was ridiculous, because that would mean Kouga and Sesshoumaru were both…

              Kagome sat up with a sharp intake of breath.

              A little movement might do her good.

              She spent the next hour outside, wandering the shrine grounds, following a path down to the riverbed and walking upriver until she saw a good place to sit and dip her feet in the water. The summer air was sticky and hot, even up here in the mountains, but the breeze and the cool water flowing between her toes kept her cool. Surrounded as she was by this lush, verdant nature, she could almost forget that she was in the middle of an existential crisis of sorts.

              Kouga had always been able to pick her out in a room. He made comments – _I can smell him on you_ – that nobody else would make. He had never seemed to break a sweat even when beating crazy records in high school track team, but then mysteriously didn’t accept any track scholarships for college. And then there was Sesshoumaru. That name, first of all. What if it was his real name, if it was actually _him_ she had read about? The freakish strength when he attacked Kouga. The speed in which the two had separated.

              And they’d both made comments implying things…

              _The surprise had melted from Sesshoumaru’s features, and into an expression of intense interest, almost as though he were studying her like a specimen under a microscope.  “You really have no idea,” he marveled, and a small smile crept onto his lips._

_There was no hiding her surprise when Kouga reached across the table and gave her hands a gentle squeeze in thanks. “You know about **us** , right?”_

Even Miroku had made comments. Many times. Asking if Kouga had talked about his _family_. And he had been pushing for her to come here. Many times.

              She whipped out her cellphone and texted him. _So youkai are real?_ It took less than a minute for a reply to chime in: _We’ll talk when you get back_.

              Well, fuck.

              The sun was coming down when Kagome replaced her shoes and made her way back to her aunt’s house. She was becoming increasingly reconciled to the fact that she had been out of the loop on something very important for her whole life, up until now. Even what Mariko had said about miko threw her for a loop. While the term still referred to the priestesses who worked in Shinto shrines, it had lost the historical nuance of a woman with spiritual powers, _reiki_ , the yin to the yang of a youkai’s energy, or _youki_.

              When she entered the dining room at seven, she was surprised that her uncle and cousin were absent. Her aunt, though, was seated at the table, hands in her lap, waiting for her. There was only one other place setting. “I thought we could continue our conversation from this afternoon,” Mariko said. “Kenji and Ichiro went out for dinner. They’ll be back by nine.”

              Kagome had a seat. She picked up her chopsticks, put her hands together and mumbled _itadakimasu_ before looking down at the broiled mackerel before her. “So it’s all true, then?”

              Mariko nodded and picked up her bowl of rice. “You _must_ have felt them before?” Mariko inclined her head. “Even untrained, you _are_ a miko. When they spread their youki over you, as a miko, you should feel it. That revolting –” she shuddered “ – that most unpleasant sensation.”

              Kagome brought some of the fish to her mouth and chewed slowly. Is that what it was? With Kouga, she frequently felt a sensation, but rather than unpleasant, it was that nostalgic feeling that reminded her of when she was in the throes of her first love with him. It was what made her so easily get caught up in his pace, what made her give in to his kisses when she wasn’t really interested anymore. With Sesshoumaru – it hurt her to recall that feeling of pleasant, hazy, drowsiness. That calmness and comfortability would fall over her, making her feel almost in a dream. It hurt, because of her broken heart, but it was far from revolting.

              The only one that truly felt _revolting_ was Naraku-sensei. Did that mean he was…?

              “I think I know what you mean,” she replied eventually. She reached up and toyed with her necklace, and then recalled how Naraku-sensei had commented on it the last time he was harassing her. They all had said something, at some point or another. “So if the jewel is no longer powerful, why would youkai still be after it, to the point where it shouldn’t go to a museum?”

              Mariko tilted her head. “I was joking about that, Kagome-chan. Unless – has something happened to make you think so?”

              “No,” she replied, quickly, though her mind was turning over the disappearance of the jewel and what it could have meant if it really _was_ a powerful artifact. “But do you think they would?”

              “I doubt it,” she said. Her eyes crinkled in a smile as she made another joke. “Unless it had some sentimental value to them, I’m sure!”

              Kagome felt her heart fall to her stomach. _Sesshoumaru-sama, who as you know, has some influence over the region, has been active in the effort to contain the threat._ It didn’t explain Kouga’s reaction to it, or Naraku-sensei’s, but she felt certain she had figured out at least part of the puzzle. Sesshoumaru _was_ the Sesshoumaru those letters had referred to. He had been there when the jewel was broken, and was ‘active in the effort’ to put it back together. It had some sentimental value to him. So, he had taken her necklace, without her noticing, while they were making out. And later, he had been the one to put it back, for some reason. After that, he had been cold and business-like, never replied to her texts. He was using her.

              She took a shaky breath in and blinked away the prickling sensation of incoming tears. They ate in silence for a moment. “So they just blend in nowadays?” She asked eventually, hoping that hearing her aunt talk would take her mind off the growing despair gnawing at her from the inside.

              “For the most part, they have integrated into our society. They tend to be reclusive, however; to not get too deeply involved in human affairs. After all this time, they still have this _ludicrous_ sense of superiority over us,” Mariko said, shaking her head. “Families like ours are the only ones that know. It’s rare that we have to do anything to step in. They police each other fairly well. Don’t want to risk discovery, not with medical science as advanced and potentially dangerous to them as it is now. It’s a shame,” she said, and for a brief moment Kagome thought she was going to sympathize with youkai for having to go into hiding, “because we’ve had less and less to do with them over the years, a great deal of knowledge about reiki and its use has been lost to time. Miko of generations past could perform astounding feats. Now…” she shrugged. “It’s like a vestigial feature for most of us.”

              Kagome nodded, wondering where all this enmity for youkai came from, if they were generally reclusive and self-policing. And though her own experiences with youkai, that she knew of at least, were not overall positive, she didn’t think it was because of _what they were_. Just things didn’t work out. But she could see that Mariko-oba-san was of a different mindset, and she didn’t want to raise the topic.

              “Can you do anything with your reiki?” She asked instead, around a mouthful of white rice.

              Mariko sniffed as though in affront. She opened her mouth, about to respond, when the door behind them rattled open. A man in his mid-thirties stood in the entrance. He had a tentative smile on his face, a kind-looking face, Kagome noted. “Ah! Ichiro!” She stood and ushered him into the room.         

              He laughed, walked around the table, and much to Kagome’s surprise, leaned over and gave her a hug. “Kagome-chan!” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling, and pulled a chair out to sit beside her. “I haven’t seen you since you were, what – three? Four? – years old!”

              His mirth was contagious and Kagome gave him a radiant smile in return. She knew she had met him before, but didn’t remember. It was too long ago. “It’s good to see you,” was the response she settled on, and tidily placed her chopsticks down.

              “Do you want to run and get some tea? Catch up?” He asked.

              “Let me put the kettle on,” Mariko said, scraping her chair back.

              “No, no, don’t trouble yourself, Mom. We’ll head down to Ochako. I bet you haven’t seen much of our town yet, huh, Kagome-chan?”

              “Ochako is too far!” Mariko protested. “It will take you at least twenty minutes to walk there!”

              “I could use the exercise,” he chortled, patting his stomach, before he placed his hand on her elbow and walked her out of the room, calling back that they’d return in a few hours, and Kagome watched in some surprise as he railroaded past all his mother’s objections and seemed entirely undaunted by the look of barely restrained anger in her expression.

              Once across the bridge, he released her arm, and gave her a laughing apology. “Sorry. Mom said she was going to talk to you tonight about the family business,” he said by way of explanation. “I did my best to get in earlier, but it was a hassle getting around Dad.”

              Kagome raised her eyebrows and followed him down the street, lined by dilapidated but charming homes. Her voice held no reproof when she asked if it was really something to need saving from.

              “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, after a beat. “I love my parents. They just have some old ideas about how things should be in the world, you know. And Mom in particular is a little… bitter. About reiki, about youkai. Your dad—” he started, and turned to face her, uncertainty shining in his eyes. “Well, let’s talk when we get inside.”

              They stood not four buildings down from the bridge, in front of a small café with the sign “Café Edward” above the entry door. “…Tea?” Kagome asked.

              “How about some coffee and cake instead?” He asked laughingly, and opened the door for her to precede him into the shop. Once inside, he picked a small table in the back by the window, and motioned for her to join him. She sat, just as the person that had been behind the counter sidled up to the table. “Hey Yura.”

              “Hey handsome,” the young lady replied. She turned to Kagome and gave her a brilliant smile. “ _Love_ your hair,” she gushed.  “How long did it take to grow it out?”

              Kagome blushed at the compliment but shrugged. “I’ve always had it long, to be honest.”

              “A girl after my own heart,” she replied, winking as she whipped a notepad out from the pocket of her apron. “What can I get you?”

              “Oh, um,” Kagome looked around the room in a panic, trying to locate some sort of menu. “A latte?”

              Yura laughed, not writing anything down, before turning to Ichiro. “We have carrot cake and a triple chocolate cake left. What’ll it be, hot stuff?” He gestured vaguely and she laughed, moving away from the table and heading behind the counter once more.

              Kagome looked at Ichiro expectantly. He was watching Yura as she flitted about behind the counter, a contemplative expression on his face. “She’s youkai, you know,” he said tonelessly, turning to Kagome.

              She raised her eyebrows and looked at Yura again. To her surprise, Yura had stilled behind the counter and met her gaze, face carefully blank. “Oh,” Kagome said, before she gave her a shy smile. Yura blinked, and resumed her work. Kagome looked back at Ichiro. She tilted her head in question. “I thought your mom said we’re supposed to be able to feel them?”

              He twisted his lips. Behind the counter, Yura had stilled again. “She did, huh?” There was a coldness in his eyes as he leaned away from her, and Kagome had the distinct feeling she had said something wrong.

              “I’ve felt it before, from… two of my f-friends who… I’m _fairly_ certain are… youkai,” she fumbled, “but it was never that gross, repellent feeling that your mom described. And even then, I didn’t… feel it all the time…” she trailed off, cheeks burning, recalling the _precise effects_ she was used to feeling around those two handsome demons.

              Something in Ichiro’s posture relaxed, and he gave her a tentative smile. From her left, the sounds of coffee beans grinding reached Kagome’s ears. She had successfully stepped around some hidden landmine, apparently.

              “You can train yourself to sense it,” he said, at length. “Usually the uninitiated, like yourself, little cousin,” he said, relaxing further as he propped his forearms on the table, leaning in, “will only feel a youkai presence when they want to be sensed. Like they’re trying to communicate something.”

              She turned that over in her mind, but her thoughts were distracted when she felt a prickle on the back of her neck, and an anxiety roiling in her gut. Jerking upright in her chair, Kagome’s eyes darted around. This was the feeling she got when –

              “Communicate something, or make you feel something,” came Yura’s soft voice as she approached. The feeling of dread immediately dissipated and Kagome felt suddenly calm, relaxed. Then that feeling too disappeared. The clatter of plates touching down on the table in front of her startled Kagome and she looked up at the youkai that was poised over her. “Sorry about that, doll,” Yura lilted, and pulled a chair out to settle between them.

              “That was _you_?”

              Yura’s cheeky smile made Kagome huff out a little laugh. “Used to be, youkai were only interested in instilling fear in humans. And in miko in particular.” Yura reached out, tugging on one of Kagome’s tresses and examining it closely. “In those days, when your kind were better trained, you could expand the reach of your senses with your reiki and pick out a youkai from miles away. Back then, we couldn’t help it; only the talented few were able to effectively hide their youki, and hiding it was considered weakness. So the few that could, _didn’t_. We’ve come a long way in learning not to broadcast ourselves, though we can’t always help that. Most all of us can keep it reigned in. We _have_ to, now.” She sighed, and gently tucked the lock of hair behind Kagome’s ear. “You need a trim, doll. Come by tomorrow and I’ll take care of you.” Yura didn’t seem to expect an answer to that, and stood back up.

              Kagome watched as Yura sauntered back behind the counter to finish fixing their coffee. The chocolate cake sitting in front of her beckoned, and she tentatively picked up her fork, hoping that as she digested the cake, she would digest all this new information as well.

              “Mom and Dad are… sort of old school,” Ichiro said, and that phrase coming out of the mouth of a man in his mid-thirties struck Kagome as odd. “They look at things as really black and white. Humans good. Youkai bad.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

              “And my father?”

              “What?” He seemed startled.

              “You started to say something about him, before.”

              “Oh.” He sighed, averted his gaze. Then he too was fiddling with his fork. “Mom and Nobuhiko-Oji-san didn’t see eye-to-eye on that stuff,[3]” he said, voice low and thoughtful. “Your Dad had the right of it, as far as I’m concerned.” Though his voice was stronger and his gaze direct when he said that, his next words were coupled with another averted gaze and an uncertainty in his tone. “But he passed away after an altercation with a youkai. Since then, there’s… no way to talk to her about it. To her, all youkai are as evil as the one that took her brother away.”

              Kagome put down her fork and fell back into her chair. She’d always thought her father had died in a car accident. The coffee arrived; she barely noticed. For a long time, she sat there in silence, fingers fidgeting with her necklace, not quite sure what to think. Eventually, she was aware of a warm sensation, something similar to that calm that Sesshoumaru made her feel, and her eyes snapped up to Yura.

              “Sorry, dovie,” Yura said, smiling softly at her. “Like I said, we can’t always help it.”

              She gave a watery smile by way of response, and felt the calming blanket of youki recede. Taking a deep breath and gathering her determination, Kagome looked up to her cousin. “Thank you for telling me.” Thinking of Sesshoumaru, feeling the Shikon no Tama in her hands, brought her to a question that needed answering. “Your mom said, about _this,”_ she indicated the jewel, “that it’s not something to put me in harm’s way; that it’s lost its value. So if the jewel is no longer powerful, is there any reason… that someone would try to take it from me?”

              The arrested expression on Ichiro’s face, with his eyebrows climbing up into his hairline and his lips parted in surprise was almost comical. He looked helplessly at the youkai in the room. “You don’t feel any power from it, do you?”

              Yura gave him a secretive smile, as though she was going to keep her lips sealed, but then she winked at him, and they both exhaled some relief. “It’s not inert,” was her thoughtful reply. “There’s an energy around it. But it’s useless,” she said. “It doesn’t have any of the charm it used to.”

               “Yura!” Ichiro exclaimed in disbelief, standing, chair pushing back. He turned red then, and settled back down. Then, something borderline vindictive appeared on his face. “I didn’t know you were _that old_.”

              She gasped in mock outrage and waved her spoon at him.

              “What was it like?” Kagome asked. “When it was powerful?”

              “Ah,” Yura’s sweet, lilting voice released a sigh. “It was lovely. It shone from within like a beacon. You could hear its siren call for _miles_. Just irresistible.”

              “Can you think of any reason…” Kagome swallowed around the lump in her throat.

              “Any number of reasons, for someone who knows what it _is_ ,” Yura replied. “If it were me…” She tilted her head, eyes squinting together in deep thought. “I dunno. It feels like it’s asleep. I’d want to try and wake it up.”

 

 

              Kagome and Ichiro stayed there for another hour before the latter decided it was time for them to leave. Kagome stood and made her way to the door, after making a deep bow of thanks to Yura for both the comped coffee and cake, and for the openness with which she had shared her information [4]. Once outside, the sweet summer air wrapped around her like a fog. She was surprised when Ichiro wasn’t right behind her on the way out; a glance into the shop revealed him leaning across the counter, lips locked with the friendly demons behind it, and Kagome blushed to the roots of her hair as she turned her back to the door.

              That little kiss answered a lot of questions she had saved for Ichiro for the short walk back to the house.

              When the sound of the shop door opening and closing behind her reached her ears, Kagome started walking. “I think I might walk around for a little bit longer,” Kagome said, giving her cousin a pleading look. “I need a minute to think.”

              Ichiro smiled at her, apparently understanding her need for solitude. “Mom wouldn’t like you wandering around alone at night. How long do you need?”

              “Maybe half an hour?”

              “Okay. Go down the road three blocks, make a left. There’s a staircase down to the riverbank there. A few benches down there, and the fireflies are lovely down there around this time. I’ll pick you up in thirty?”

              She nodded and waved. Not two seconds after she turned to make her way down the street, she heard the sound of the shop door open and close, and a delighted shriek from the woman inside. Kagome laughed to herself, and looked up into the darkening sky as she continued her walk. The left turn lead off the two-lane street to one that was just wide enough for a car to squeak through, and she followed the alleyway back into the open air with a sense of foreboding. When she reached the staircase, the river noise was close, its usually soothing sound a cacophony in her ears.

              A sick, roiling anticipating clung to her skin, and from the inside of her chest she felt a black fear pushing its way out.

              “Alone at _last_ ,” came a cold, feminine voice from directly behind her.

              Kagome spun, grabbing the hand-rail for balance, and immediately recognized the red-eyed woman in front of her.

              _Kagura_.

              “The thorn in my side, so perfectly ready to be _plucked out_ ,” the woman was saying, her face shadowed by red eyes gleaming. “Ah, that’s it,” she said, voice encouraging. “Fear. A little more, if you please. I want to see absolute terror in that wretched little face of yours before I dispose of you.”

              Kagome’s eyes widened. “What –”

              “Perfect,” Kagura cooed. And then, with a force that knocked the air from Kagome’s lungs and sent her catapulting into the air, Kagura pummeled Kagome in the gut, hurtling her down the stairs.

              She was cognizant of a few things as she flew through the air:

              She couldn’t breathe. The hit to the diaphragm had her chest frozen, and she couldn’t breathe.

              There was a surge of youki.

              There was a surge of reiki.

              Then there was the ground.

              Then everything went black.

             

             

             

             

 

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAH! Another chapter. Like I said, a lot of information. We’ll get back to the good stuff soon enough. :)
> 
> Footnotes  
> [1] “Thank you for taking care of me”. So really it’s お世話になりました, read as “o-sewa ni narimashita.” This is a formal greeting you make when you’ve been the recipient of someone’s kindness/patience/support etc., so a few situations you might use it would be when saying farewell to co-worker when leaving a job, when thanking a teacher at the end of the year, and a bunch more, when someone does you a big favor, etc.  
> [2] Oba-san: Aunt  
> [3] Oji-san: Uncle  
> [4] Comped: A retail term. When a purchase or service is provided for free. I think it’s short for “complementary-ed”?


	12. 病気 Illness: There will be great danger. Be pious. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I like this

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Twelve

_病気 Illness: There will be great danger. Be pious. Part II_

When Kagome’s eyes opened, it was to the sensation of a warm hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. It was a calm way to wake up, but the calm within her immediately turned into panic when the flickering memory of what happened flashed before her eyes.

              Kagura, red glare raging. The blow to her belly. The fall down the stairs.

              All she could see before her was the haze of danger. Like a wild animal, Kagome gripped the hand on her shoulder, pushing away with a violence she had never felt before. Something sparked in her fingertips – strangely, it was not an unknown feeling to her, though certainly not one she knew well – and she heard a loud hiss of pain in a distinctly feminine voice.

              Lurching forward, she tried to come to her feet, to push off the ground with her left hand, but an immediate, blinding pain zapped through her arm and shuttered her unseeing eyes closed as she fell forward into the warmth of a male chest.

              “Fuck!” Came a shrill cry from her side, just as Kagome was slapped with a wave of nausea. She turned her head and heaved, saliva drooling from her mouth, and the evening’s delightful chocolate cake and café latte manifested on the cement beside her.

              “Yura!”

              Abruptly the nausea faded away, though the pain that caused it didn’t.

              The voice of reprimand was familiar. Ichiro. Blinking blearily, Kagome looked up, realizing that he was the one who held her. He smoothed her hair in a soothing gesture, but his eyes were for his lover, off to the right, who cradled a hand bright with a new burn into her chest.

              Slowly, her vision came into focus. Just as slowly, her thoughts ordered themselves, and she made sense of what happened. Yura had tried to wake her. In her panic, Kagome had lashed out and – _somehow_ – burned the ever-living fuck out of Yura’s palm. Yura had smacked her with her ill-feeling, making Kagome lose her cake, but Ichiro had stepped in. Though Yura’s expression appeared peeved, the condition of her scorched skin seemed to be improving at an unbelievable rate.

              “Oh no – I am so sorry, I…”

              Yura chuckled. “It’s fine now. Almost healed.” She shook her head, her perfectly trimmed bob swishing beautifully around her slender neck. “Man, I haven’t felt a sting like that in _centuries_. You’ve got some good stuff there, lovie.”

              Kagome doubled over then, a searing pain breaking through her newfound calm. Now that the adrenaline was waning, she could _really_ feel it. She must have broken her arm.  She didn’t want to look down at it. She was barely keeping her shit together as it was.

              As luck would have it, her desires were essentially moot. One more wave of pain rolled over her, and her brain did her the kindness of shutting off once more.

-+-

              What was intended to be an early evening to bed at her Aunt’s home ended up being a forty-minute drive to an urgent care facility that had her assessed, treated, and in a cast by no later than 2 in the morning the next day. When Ichiro had called his mother to let her know that Kagome had fallen and fractured a bone, he had been subject to a reaming of epic proportions; one which he bore with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile upon hanging up.

              On the drive back, he explained what happened. He and Yura had been in the café – in a passionate embrace, Kagome assumed gigglingly to herself – when they felt a wave of youki filled with malice. Yura had recognized the direction it came from as the direction Kagome had gone in, and the two took off to find her.

              They arrived at the end of the alleyway in time to see Kagura punch Kagome in the gut, launching her down the staircase. Yura had bolted forward with an explosion of youki, attempting to catch her, when Kagome herself – _herself!!_ – had released a burst of reiki that, due to being entirely uncontrolled and poorly directed, minimally cushioned her fall. Minimally, but enough to prevent an all-out snapping of her arm in two. By the time Yura and Ichiro had turned to see to Kagura, she was gone.

              Mariko did not greet them upon their return to the house, at almost 3 in the morning. Ichiro helped Kagome in, took her shoes off for her in the genkan and then shepherded her into the guest room and right into bed without changing. She fell asleep nearly the moment her head hit the pillow, and slept in excess of ten hours, waking just in time for a late lunch.

              The remainder of the day was spent, first, by being suffocated by her aunt and uncle, and then later by seeking refuge in the shrine’s materials room, where Kagome literally single-handedly paged through books and skimmed through scrolls, looking for information that seemed like it might answer any of the _plethora_ of questions that had arisen since her arrival in this sleepy mountain-side town.

              Ichiro had made it a point for Kagome to swear she would say nothing to Mariko about him and Yura, about the encounter with Kagura, or about her use of reiki. He reminded her in no uncertain terms that his mother saw things a _certain way_ , and that she had a profound bitterness revolving around the subject of reiki. Kagome kept to her word, but her mind lingered on the topic often.

              Yura had told her that she had not seen anything quite like the display of spiritual energy that Kagome had put on when she attempted to protect herself as she landed, in at least the last four hundred years. When Kagome replied that she couldn’t remember doing anything in the slightest, Yura had waved her concerns away with the flick of her hand, which by that point looked no worse for the wear. “The body can do incredible things when it feels like it’s in mortal peril,” was Yura’s tittering response. But Kagome hadn’t missed the look that passed between Yura and Ichiro after that – the way they had both looked down at Yura’s hand and then sought each other’s eyes.

              In the car as he drove her home all bandaged up, when it was just the two of them again, Ichiro confided that he didn’t know of _anyone_ who could put out that much reiki at once, in the first place, let alone have enough energy left over to injure a youkai to the degree that she had injured Yura. Which was something that Kagome still felt profoundly awful about.

              She thought about it a lot. He hadn’t exactly been praising her when he said it. He had looked genuinely concerned, put off, like he didn’t quite know what to feel about it.

              For her part, she kept dwelling on the fact that the feeling of those tingles spreading through her body and coming out her fingertips – that it wasn’t _unfamiliar_. For the life of her, she could not pin down where she had felt it before [1]. But it nagged at her, all evening long, as she sorted through aged texts and organized them into neat little piles by subject of relevance.

             

 

              She spent much of her time over the remaining days of her visit in that materials room. Mariko would join her some times, Ichiro others. Never the two at once. She had noticed that things between them were strained; more than she had originally thought they were. From Mariko’s end, she sensed a desire to reconcile, but she knew that if Mariko knew where Ichiro’s heart lay, that the fragile thread that still connected them would likely snap. It required a great degree of delicacy on her part, because Mariko would always inject an innocent-seeming question here and there, trying to learn more about what Ichiro would say, or what they would talk about, or where they would go, or if she knew anything about him otherwise.

              Despite their differences, Mariko was his mother, after all.

              Through all of the conversation and the hours of reading, Kagome learned a lot. About the history of Miko, of youkai. About the tale of the Shikon no Tama. She was catching up on an education that she should have started as a child, but which had been curtailed by the death of her father. Inevitably, thoughts of him – of the man she loved but could now barely remember – also filled her head. She went out of her way, then, to find out about her family as well.

              Mariko had a lot to share. Photo albums. Home videos. She came alive, filled with color and energy, when she told stories about her brother. But at the end of each home video or charmingly related anecdote, whenever she would close the photo album, her eyes would inevitably fill with tears.

              Before Kagome knew it, the day of her return home was upon her. Just like that, her few vacation days were over. She had barely gotten to explore the wilderness that had so charmed her on the drive in, due to the condition of her arm. But she had come away from this trip with a sense of family, an increased knowledge of herself, and a startlingly different world-view.

And a suitcase full of materials that her aunt had consented to loan her for the time being.

When Kagome unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped in, it was to the eager hugs and smiling faces of Sango and Miroku. Miroku gave her a meaningful look, which Kagome read as ‘we’ll talk about _that_ later’, and then re-introduced himself as Sango’s _boyfriend._

              “WHAT!” Kagome ejaculated, dropping her purse on the floor before spinning to look at the shit-eating grin on Sango’s face. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TEXT ME ABOUT THIS I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS?!”

              At that, Sango laughed merrily and swept her into another hug, careful of Kagome’s injured arm. Miroku had cleared the room, taking Kagome’s bags with him, ostensibly to put them into her room, which was more than likely just an excuse to give the two women some alone time.

              “You have to tell me everything,” Kagome said, still marveling, as Sango herded her onto the living room couch, where a glass of champagne was waiting for her on the coffee table.

              “Well there’s too much to tell in detail so I’ll give you broad strokes,” Sango said smugly. “We went on this trip. We fucked a lot. We talked a lot. Had an argument or two. Had some sex. And then…” she pressed her finger to her lips, warning her friend to stay silent, before whispering, “ _he said **it**._ ”

              The sound that exited Kagome’s face was something like a wheeze and something like a sigh. “He said it _first_?” Sango nodded, a brilliant smile on her perfect face. “Must have been _some_ sex,” Kagome jibed, and the two burst out laughing.

              For the next forty minutes, they sat on the couch, combing over the events of Sango’s trip with Miroku (who stayed quietly out of the way, completely forgotten, in Kagome’s room), before it occurred to either of them that he was still missing.

              “I’ll go get him,” Kagome said, and picked up her purse before tottering over to her bedroom. Miroku was cross-legged on her floor, her suitcase open beside him, paging through one of the texts she had brought back with her. “Hey there,” she said, watching him from the doorway.

              “Some good stuff in here. You should really read this one,” he said at length, tucking an ofuda [2] between pages before he closed the book he had been looking at. “You and I have a lot to talk about.”

              Kagome nodded, anticipation curling her stomach.

              “But not tonight. I’m taking my _ladyfriend_ out to dinner,” he said, waggling his brows suggestively.

              The disappointment that crashed in around her filled her with a sense of urgency, and she reached out to stop him as he made his way to the door. “One thing—” Kagome started, gentling her grip on his arm. “One thing before you go. Does Sango know? About… _them_ … and…and us?”

              He gave her a supportive smile, closing his hand around hers where she touched him. “No. It’s surprising how many people in your circle know about it at all,” and he paused, as though mentally calculating the number, “but the only _people_ who know are people who are those from the direct lineages – those in the so-called business.” He took a step and the two of them settled on the edge of her bed. “My family is one such family. Your father’s is too. But it was abundantly clear that you didn’t know, and it is something you can only be taught from those above you in your direct line. There are heavy consequences for letting _that_ cat out of the bag. I couldn’t say anything, no matter how much I wanted to tell you… Kouga too, for years.” He heaved a sigh. “I just wish you’d paid attention to my hinting sooner.”

              “How did Kouga know you knew, and that I didn’t?”

              He stood, looking down at her with a sly grin. “That’s more than one question.” But he took pity on her and answered her anyway. “He’s hundreds of years old. Did you think he wouldn’t have learned the look of _that kind_ of recognition by now?”

              And with that sobering nugget, he left her alone in her room. 

 

 

              That night, as Kagome laid in bed, texting app open on her phone, eyes staring unseeingly at the screen, she mulled over what she had learned. Really, _hundreds_ of years old? It made sense, she supposed. He was old enough to recognize the Shikon no Tama. Sesshoumaru, too, then. _No, no_ , she corrected herself. _Aotsuki-sensei. Not Sesshoumaru anymore. That’s just how it has to be._

              She laid her phone on her chest and closed her eyes. Kouga. So when she felt that nostalgic feeling with him, it was because he wanted her to feel that way. Consciously or unconsciously, he wanted her to feel that fluttering in her chest, that feeling she had felt when she had eyes for nobody else but him. Was it because he still liked her? _Ugh_. Kagome scolded herself. _What a dumb question. He’s been so obvious about it. Of course that’s why_.

              What did that mean for Sess—Aotsuki-sensei, then? The feeling she got when he was around… it was a different feeling. She thought back to the first time she had seen him. In the library, by the elevators, when she had almost bowled him over. No – no. It was before then. She was in the stacks, and he had peeped out at her from the other side of the shelf. She had felt odd, then, she remembered. Like floating. Safe, calm, and unconcerned, and as though she was floating underwater. What did that mean?

              The next two times they met, she had been too distracted. He had stepped out of the elevator the first, and the next was at the wake. She had been distracted _by him_ at the time, but looking back into her memories now, she couldn’t remember anything about what she felt, past her grief at the event that brought them together. She saw him so many times on campus after that, when she would visit him in his office, but though she could recall a tumult of emotions on her part, no particular instance stood out to her as one which she could reinterpret as originating from him. The very next time that she could remember being conscious of the feeling was the day she had gone over to sign the paperwork for the internship. The feeling of weightlessness, of anticipation… the tingles in her lips and fingertips…

              For a moment, she thought she hit on something, but the tingles she had felt _that_ time were different than when she had unleashed her reiki on unsuspecting Yura. So she kept combing through her memories. Much more recent, now, in much more vivid detail.

              She had signed the papers, and then essentially gotten to work. She had met up with Kouga, inadvertently, on her way home, and then after she had stormed away from him, Sesshoumaru had caught up with her… _Oh._ Well at least that made some sense. They had both made comments – _he was all over you_ –  something to that effect. They could probably smell one another, what with their heightened senses.

              As soon as she moved on from the revelation, Kagome realized that she had entered dangerous territory. All of a sudden, she was reliving the evening she had spent in Sesshoumaru’s arms. The way he had held her. The feel of his tongue on her skin. His voice, echoing in her ears, with each soft grunt that left him. How he had egged her on with his fingers even as he moved inside of her. And then –

              And with startling clarity –

              She remembered.

              Two, very important things.

              One. The next time she had felt that weightlessness was after their completion.

              Two. Before that, though, when she had been achieving hers…

_Her vision went dark. The tingles ran throughout her body, ending at her fingertips, which clutched brutally tight onto his forearms. He made a quick, strangled sound, as though he’d been burned, but continued to move over her._

It was entirely possible that she had unknowingly attacked him while they made love.

              She sighed. Her mind wandered. She had eventually fell asleep. She woke up, somewhere around two in the morning, carefully setting aside all of the roiling anxiety that filled her at the idea of unthinkingly injuring the man as they were at their most intimate, to summarize her thoughts on what had been the original subject of her meditation. Whatever it was that Sesshoumaru had tried to make her feel, consciously or not, it was not love or even affection. She didn’t know what it _was_ , but she knew what it was _not_.

              And she most certainly didn’t know how to feel about it, one way or the other. Or if it meant anything. Did it even _mean_ anything?

              It was with this tumultuous heart that she closed her eyes, and chased a fitful slumber for the remaining hours of the night.

-+-

              The next day was the last day of break. She and Miroku had slated some time to sit together and talk. As she munched on her cereal, she debated whether she should add another meeting to her day. In the end, as it was with her, curiosity won out. She pulled out her phone and texted Kouga.

              _You left a lot out the last time we talked_ , she wrote. _If you have time today, can we talk about ‘your family’?_

              It came as no surprise to her that his response was almost immediate: _When and where?_

              They worked the details out by the time she finished her breakfast, and then Kagome made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was no longer so awkward as it was before, now that she was somewhat used to doing things one-handed. For simplicity’s sake, she put on a pretty yellow sundress and a pair of ballet flats she could toe into easily, then she was out the door.

              Being the last free day, she had a small checklist of things she needed to accomplish, a few purchases to make, before getting back into her school routine. She had finished the lighter leg of her shopping just before lunch rolled around, and made her way to one of the colorful and cute cafes in front of the train station. Miroku was waiting for her outside, leaning against the wall and looking through his phone – pleasantly surprising, because normally he was a woman-watcher while he waited. Kagome made a mental note to report back to Sango about it.

              She called his name in greeting and he looked up, returning her smile with his own. “It’s a bit noisy in there,” he said. “Perfect for our purposes.” This last sentence was uttered with his trademark eyebrow waggle, and Kagome couldn’t help but laugh.

              Once inside and seated, they waited until the waitress had taken their orders before they started in on their discussion.

              “You have questions, my friend,” he said, and propped his head up in his hands.

              “Yeah. My aunt and cousin taught me a lot, and I brought a lot of material to keep reading up about it, as you saw.”

              “Did you get to the book I marked for you, yet?” He asked. When she shook her head, he rolled his eyes. “Do it soon, please. I’m not sure, but you may find it relevant.”

              “Can’t you just tell me about it?”

“I’d rather see if you come to same conclusion that I did, before I offer my thoughts.”

Now _she_ rolled her eyes. He chuckled and gestured for her to continue. “So last night you looked like you were counting up the number of youkai in my circle of acquaintance. I can think of six that I know for sure or that I _think_ might be youkai. What number did you come up with?”

              He answered immediately, which quelled her worries that she was asking him to ‘out’ people as… not people. But apparently it wasn’t a big deal, now that she knew what she knew. “I had one less. Kouga and his cousin Ginta – you remember him? – the shit-head professor, Aotsuki, and my buddy Hachi that we used to hang with. The one who moved to Hokkaido.”

              “Oh. That makes more than I thought, then. Seven with Ginta-kun and Hachi-kun. Really? I can see Ginta being a youkai, since he’s Kouga’s cousin. But Hachi-kun?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I knew about Kouga and Aotsuki-sensei of course. Then there’s Yura-san, who my cousin is maybe dating. And I had suspected Naraku-sensei, and I’m thinking Kagura too.”

              “Kagura?” The waitress arrived with their drinks, and they waited for her to depart before continuing their conversation.

              “Maybe you heard from Sango. The lady that I thought Aotsuki-sensei was dating.”

              He chuckled, “Right, I remember,” then took a sip of his water. “Why is Hachi so surprising?”

              “Well,” she said, considering. “He’s so _slow_. And like… lazy. He doesn’t have the physique.”

              Miroku was outright laughing now. “I’ll be sure to tell him.” Once he’d settled down, he reached out and booped Kagome on the nose. “I can see how you’d fall under that kind of misapprehension, though. Kouga and Ginta, and your Aotsuki-sensei too, from what Kouga tells me, are all canine type youkai. There’s a certain athleticism that comes from being a hunter, you know. Hachi is… about as herbivorous as you can get.”

              “What kind of canine?”

              “Kouga’s a wolf.”

              Kagome nearly spurt out her coffee.

              “And he tells me Aotsuki-sensei is a dog.”

              A dog? There was nothing dog-like about him! Her amusement faded quickly as Kagome took that information in. She hadn’t gotten into that whole pot of worms yet, though she had been made vaguely aware, by her cousin, that youkai were made in different molds. She had known she could find out more about the youkai piece of her missing education _here_ , so she had focused more on the history, Miko, and reiki while she was up in the mountains. But this did mean she had a laundry list of questions to ask Kouga, when they met. Some things though… she couldn’t ask _him_.

              “Is it normal for youkai to… pursue relationships with humans?”

              “Kouga’s always been a bit different,” Miroku said, and Kagome realized that she should have been clearer. It was a different youkai she had in mind when she asked. “I mean, generally, it’s not common but it’s not unheard of. Youkai and human couples beget hanyou babies, and there’s a whole laundry-list of complications involved there. Firstly, it’s hard to find humans who are in the know, who are also not super conservative about keeping the bloodlines separate, you know? And then assuming that a relationship _does_ form, hanyou babies are a whole heap of trouble and, uh… _looked down upon_. Generally.”

              “But Kouga doesn’t mind the idea?”

              The waitress approached and brought their entrees, and as she settled the dishes on the table and asked if they needed anything else, Miroku tilted his head and looked at Kagome with lips pursed in deep contemplation. Waitress gone once more, he lowered his gaze to his plate. “You’re not going to pursue things further with Kouga, are you?”

              His eyes flicked back up to her face. His tone was free of inflection and his look free from judgement. She shook her head. “No. He _should_ have known it before too, but the last time we met, we made it clear.”

              Now one of his brows raised. “Clear, like, sealed with a goodbye kiss, clear?”

              So much for free of judgement. “That is _on him_ ,” Kagome said, stubbornly. “He sprung that one on me entirely on his own.”

              Miroku shrugged and went back to answering her original question. “Kouga’s surprisingly progressive for a youkai of his age. It’s fairly uncommon to see members of his generation so interested in interacting with humanity in general. Well, even with the young ones nowadays, since their communities tend to be rather insular, it’s a rare perspective. The further back you go, the less likely you are to see a willingness to comingle.” He waved his hand. “They tend to pick solitary professions, or ones which place them in a hierarchical structure such that socializing is discouraged – like professor, or CEO. Occasionally they have to go back to school to keep the farce of their human guises alive, but usually they go to private schools for youkai, or get homeschooled. It’s rare for youkai to go to public school and university how Kouga has this time around.” There was a pause as he picked up his sandwich. “I think he’s the type that will delightedly accept a hanyou child, if it means he can have the woman he loves.” He took a moment to bite into his sandwich, but his gaze was never far from her face while he chewed his meal.

              In a way, she supposed, she had received a roundabout answer to her question. Sesshoumaru was apparently much older than Kouga. He picked a solitary profession – author – as well as a one with a clear hierarchy – professor. She sighed. She didn’t think her heart could break any more than it had before, but now she was facing the possibility that just maybe… she had never stood any kind of chance of being with him in the first place.

              The remainder of their meal passed with questions and answers exchanged between bites of food. He confirmed many of her presuppositions and clarified her mistaken conceptions gently. It was nice to know that he was of the same school as Ichiro – a social progressive, who held no resentment toward the demons in their midst.

              She should have expected that of him, she thought belatedly, as she left the café. He was laid back enough about everything else. And given the small sample size she’d been exposed to, youkai women tended to be stunningly beautiful.

              How could he resent that?

-+-

              It was around five that Kagome finished all her errands for the day. As she was making her way to the subway station to catch her ride back, however, she felt something that caused her to stop in her tracks. It was that roiling, awful feeling that she got whenever Naraku was around. It clawed at her skin, making her clammy, and she nearly lost her balance as a wave of nausea overcame her.

              Was this even _normal?_

              Once she righted herself, Kagome looked around, peering at the faces in the crowd to try and find the one responsible for this horrible foreboding sensation that was clamping down on her gut. She sucked in a shuddering breath, however, when a distinctly ladylike hand settled in a tight grip on her shoulder.

              Somehow, Kagome just _knew._ It was Kagura. Her jeering voice, whispering into her ear from behind, confirmed it. “What a delight to run into you again.” Kagura tucked her body in closer to Kagome’s, pressing against her back. “I think the two of us need to have a little _chat_.” The pressure on her shoulder increased as Kagura turned her bodily so that they faced each other. With a cruel twist of the lips, Kagura gestured to a small park across the street. “Let’s take a walk.”

               She followed, reluctantly.

              The air was hot, the cicadas were buzzing, and there was the pleasant background noise of people moving and chattering, cars zipping by, and the warm breeze filtering between the buildings and trees. None of the cozy scene did anything to quell the cold chill that was running down her spine. Kagome needed to do _something_ to break out of this weird spell that Kagura’s youki had placed her under.

              “You’re Myouji Kagura,” she said, as she followed reluctantly behind her. “I haven’t done anything to you. What on _earth_ is your problem?” _Okay that came out way more panicked than I wanted_ , she thought, still feeling her voice quivering as it died on her lips.

              Kagura made no reply until they reached a park bench in a secluded section of the green, where she pulled Kagome down to sit beside her. “You’re not wrong,” she said, and for a moment there was a charming look on her face that almost made Kagome forget how horrible this woman was. “You’ve done nothing to me. But you’re a thorn in my side.” Again, that cruel sneer appeared, marring her perfect countenance. “You have something my master wants. And, you have something he has _always_ wanted, which it has been _my job_ to get back for him.”

              _Master?_ What the fuck was she talking about?

              Before Kagome could interject, however, Kagura continued. “But then, here _you_ show up. Fostering sympathy where there should be _none,_ and now there’s _Sesshoumaru_ standing in my way, and its further from my grasp than ever.” Her bright red eyes lowered to the neckline of Kagome’s dress, and the sparkling pink bead nestled by her heart.

              Kagome recoiled in her seat, turning away from Kagura and wrapping her hand around the Shikon no Tama around her neck. “Is your… is it Naraku?” She asked, and his name felt entirely different when she said it without his title.

              “Smart little fucker,” Kagura spat, “if nothing else.”

              “It’s worthless,” Kagome said, tightening her grip on her necklace. “What could he even want with it?”

              “None of your business, you little lout.” Her voice bit. “Even if it means he’ll only get half of what he wants, I don’t care. So that I can fulfill my duty and be free of him, I’ll give you this choice, little girl. You can give me the Jewel. Or I can take your life.” Her sneer widened. “ _This_ time, there’s no friendly neighborhood youkai nearby to get in my way.”

              Kagome shot to her feet and started backing away. Her skin felt like ice, but she was sweating. Her hands had started to tremble. There was no youki cloud over her, influencing her, that she could feel. It was just terror, pure and simple, at the knowledge that this woman was entirely serious about fulfilling that threat.

              And though she considered herself a rational being more often than not, she felt deep in her bones that even if it cost her life, she could _not_ let this woman get what she wanted. She could _not_ let Naraku get his hands on the Shikon no Tama, worthless bauble or not. With that resolution in mind, Kagome spread her stance and steeled her nerves. She would run.

              But Kagura must have been expecting as much, because without missing a beat, she lunged forward. Sunlight reflecting off a metal surface caught Kagome’s attention from the corner of her eye, as she turned to run.

              She didn’t turn fast enough.

              There was an impact to her abdomen, from Kagura’s knife, and red bloomed on Kagome’s lovely yellow sundress. She screamed. The tingles started, buried somewhere deep within her, and Kagome reached out for Kagura with her free hand, as she tightened her other hand around her necklace.

              A flash of pink light. _Reiki._ She recognized it, now. Kagura reeled backwards, staggering away.

              “Hey!” A man’s voice.

              The smell of burnt flesh. “Damn it. _Damn it_!” Kagura’s voice.

              Kagome fell to her knees.

              “Hey! Get back here!” The man’s voice again.

              “Someone call an ambulance!” a woman’s voice this time. Then closer, “Miss, miss, are you okay?”

              Kagome gurgled, eyes losing focus and then closing.

              She wished she could’ve just broken her fucking arm.

 

-+-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW ITS SUPER SHORT (IS TEN PAGES SHORT THOUGH REALLY??). NEXT ONE SHOULD BE AT LEAST A TWELVE-PAGER SO THATLL MAKE UP FOR IT I HOPE????
> 
> [1] Probably something only astute readers with ridiculously long memories will recall, but… it’s not a spoiler if I say that this is a vague allusion to something that happened in chapter 9 (where the lemon’s at), is it? Whatever, I just wrote it directly into the chapter. Lol.
> 
> [2] Ofuda: Those paper talismans that are used to ward away spirits and the like.


	13. 待人 An Expected Visitor: He will not come. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all better celebrate because this puppy is like a jillion pages long and this snowball is rolling down that hill, if you get my drift.

 

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Thirteen

_待人 An Expected Visitor: He will not come. Part II_

 The first two days of her hospitalization were a blur for Kagome. The doctors had decided for conservative management of her stab-wound, after doing some imaging to determine the extent of the damage. Luckily Kagura had shit for aim when it came to casual shankings; she had missed the important stuff, so the medical team didn’t see a need for surgery. The plan was to have her discharged home in the next three days.

              Interviews with the police were conducted as soon as she was conscious and conversant, and not out of her mind on pain medication. There had been a number of witnesses that saw Kagura pull away from Kagome, knife in hand, and then run away, but none that had seen the actual stabbing. Kagome filled the gaps in for the police report, including her assailant’s name but leaving out her objective – because she wasn’t sure mentioning the Shikon no Tama was a good idea – and hoped fervently that justice would be served quickly. But something niggled there – Aunt Mariko’s warnings about youkai being self-policing stuck out in her mind.

              The nursing staff had called her mother, and she and Souta had been at Kagome’s bedside until she woke. Once she was awake, after the police had come and gone, she had been subjected to a second interrogation that honestly put the one from law-enforcement to shame. But once they had vented their anxieties through demands for answers, their love and support was a balm for her injured soul.

              Then, of course, the Omimai began. It was customary to visit the ill and infirm. The added drama surrounding her hospitalization was enough to bring all kinds of people out of the woodwork to come and see her – casual classmates whose names she barely remembered, included. Staff visits were also expected. She was sure that Myouga-sensei, as department head, would come. She dreaded the possibility that her supervisor would show, especially now that she was aware of his relation to the person that had put her in the hospital in the first place.

              At this moment, however, she was pleasantly shooting the shit with Miroku and Sango, who had been in and out of her room since they’d received the news.

              “Here,” Sango said, thrusting a brown paper bag with a large yellow W on it into Kagome’s hands. “I brought you lunch.”

              Kagome laughed. “I love me some WacDonald’s,” she murmured gleefully, peeking through the bag. “The hospital food isn’t terrible, but nothing beats greasy French fries.” With a sigh, she popped one of those delicious little suckers into her mouth.

              “How’s the pain?” Miroku asked, making himself comfortable on one of the bedside chairs.

              “I’m on drugs,” Kagome dead-panned.

              “Any word from the cops?” Sango asked, plucking a fry from between Kagome’s fingers to munch on it herself.

              “Nothing yet. Ugh. I can’t believe that _happened_.” Kagome shook her head. “I mean I’d gotten the idea that she hated me for some reason, but, like, enough to _stab_ me?” She cast a meaningful glance at Miroku. “She’s related to Naraku-sensei.”

              “What!” Sango shrieked, then immediately covered her mouth. A nurse popped her head in and asked her to keep it down. Sango bowed her head in apology and waited for the nurse to leave before speaking again, in a softer voice this time. “What?”

              “I mean, I’m assuming. Her last name is Myouji too, and it’s not a common one.”

              “Jeez, Kagome, did you tell this to the police? About how he’s been harassing you?”

              “I think…” she took a bite of her burger and chewed thoughtfully. She remembered Kagura making reference to _two_ things that Naraku wanted. Kagura had stabbed her for the Jewel. And in doing so had implied that Naraku wouldn’t get the _other_ thing she wanted, so… Kagome was putting her money on Naraku’s _other_ objective involving having her alive. And possibly naked. She shuddered. “I think those two things are unrelated.”

              Sango’s lips twisted into a frown.

              Kagome took another bite of her burger and looked around the small hospital room. It was a cozy-looking room, with wood-look floors and warm colored fabrics upholstering the chairs and hanging in front of the door as the privacy curtain. She was _in the hospital_. She shook her head.

              “Well, we’ve got your back,” Sango said, reaching out, and put her hand gently on Kagome’s shoulder. She squeezed in reassurance.

              “Ouch!” Kagome flinched away.

              “Oh my—I’m so sorry, I –”

              “Didn’t get stabbed in the shoulder, Sango, just kidding,” Kagome said, smiling devilishly at Sango’s blustering and Miroku’s unrestrained laughter.

              “Excuse me,” came the stern-faced nurse’s voice from behind the curtain, and she popped her head into the room once more. “I’m really going to have to ask you three to keep it down.” 

              Miroku stood up, apologizing to the nurse profusely. “We are so sorry. We’ll be heading out shortly.” This seemed to appease the nurse, and she disappeared again. Miroku looked at the girls on the bed, and his fondness shone in his eyes. “Hey, so I brought you something.”

              “Dessert?” Kagome asked, dreamy-eyed.

              He shook his head, turning around to pull a book out from his messenger bag. “Since all you’ve got now is time,” he handed her the book, “I figured you could take a look at the passage I bookmarked for you.”

              She looked at the volume in his hands and recognized it as the one he had been flipping through in her room, the other day. She took it, opening it to the page he had marked, and to the familiar Ofuda he had stuck between the pages. When she looked back up, it was to see him eyeing her meaningfully. She’d learned by now that that _meaningful look_ was best heeded sooner rather than later. “Thanks,” she said. “A little academic reading will help me keep my head on straight,” she murmured.

              “It’s too late for that,” Sango said, disgruntled, as she stole another fry. “Those pain meds have your head screwed on totally wrong.” With that, she flicked Kagome’s shoulder, and stood up.

              The sudden weight coming off the bed set off the bed alarm though, and the stern-faced nurse came bustling in, just as a frantic Sango was pawing at the bed controls to try turn it off. “May I see you out?” She asked, a cloying sweetness in her voice. The two visitors raised their hands and moved toward the door.       

              “Oh, one more thing,” Miroku called over his shoulder. “You have another visitor coming. I may have mentioned what happened to Kouga.”

              Kagome was too busy burying her face into her hands to see them leave the room, the nurse behind them to make sure they left.

              Her head a muddle of thoughts, she brought her burger to her mouth once more and made quick work of the rest of it. Sango had taken nearly half the fries, but there was a pie in the bottom of the bag, she saw with a smile. Once she had finished her meal, she tossed the brown bag at the trash can, missed her target, and turned to the book Miroku brought.

              It was one that Aunt Mariko had pointed her to. It seemed to have a collection of varied stories about the great exploits and battles of Miko, as well as some family-tree-type entries. She went straight to the page that Miroku had marked and set the Ofuda bookmark to the side.   

              Within moments, she was reaching for her phone to text her friend. _Out of all the books in that bag, how did you happen to open this one up to this specific page?_ She thumbed her message in and sent it, turning back to her book.

              His response came in the space of a breath. _I was in that room for at least half an hour._ One more breath, and another text chimed in. _Picking this one was a coincidence, but I was paging through it pretty carefully._

              It would have done her heart well to shut out the world and immerse herself in those pages, but of course, that’s not how things turned out. Just as she was setting her phone back down to open the book again, there came a cautious knock on the door, and a familiar voice called out an “Excuse me,” as a weathered hand pulled the curtain back.

              It was Myouga-sensei.

              Kagome smiled brightly, set the volume on her bedside table, and greeted the older man with all of the enthusiasm she could muster. “Myouga-sensei! Thank you so much for visiting!”

              He came bearing flowers. It was a beautiful floral arrangement with cut flowers, leaves, and a delicately trimmed branch or two, in an artful glass vase [1]. In his deliberate pace, the elderly professor moved to set the arrangement on the table by the window which housed the rest of her well-wishers’ gifts. He didn’t speak until he had settled himself comfortably in her bedside chair and propped one ankle over his opposite knee.

              “How wonderful to see you looking so cheerful, Higurashi-kun,” he said. “The flowers are from the department faculty.” He leaned forward and placed a card on her bedside table.

              “Thank you,” she said, inclining her head respectfully.

              “What a horrible thing to have happened,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course your wound is being treated, but are they offering you support through this?”

              Kagome was touched over his concern and nodded in the affirmative as she took a moment to formulate her response.

              If she was honest, she was still in a slight state of disbelief over what had happened. So much had changed in the last several days, beginning with her _entire worldview_ and ending with her awareness of some kind of spiritual power deep within her, that Kagura’s _two_ attempts on her life hadn’t hit her the way they might normally. Perhaps, if she had been subjected to some kind of _demonic_ attack, she mused, she might be a psychologically tattered mess of blubbering tears and emotional breakdown. But there had been something so _human_ about Kagura’s knife attack, that flew so directly in the face of what she would have expected a youkai to do to someone who knew about youkai, that she hadn’t been able to process the event properly.

              Hell, if she were a youkai she wouldn’t have opted for an easily-fallible stabbing, having other tools at hand. But their meeting had been a coincidence, or so it seemed, so maybe a knife was all Kagura had at the ready? Or perhaps she had chosen a knife because there _were_ so many humans around? There was the secretiveness of youkai to consider, after all.

              “Aside from the attention and concern of my family and friends, the hospital social worker has visited with me several times to see to that,” she said, at length. Myouga-sensei seemed satisfied.

              “Of course, things being as they are, feel free to take as much time as you need before returning to class.” He paused, then added, “Starting the day after your hospital discharge, of course, we will require you to begin catching up on your coursework, but if you need more time before coming to campus, we can have another student deliver your assignments to you.”

              She thanked him before assuring him that the moment she was out of the hospital she would be resuming her daily activities, especially going to class – this pleased him, and his white whiskers bobbed up over his affectionate smile. There was a cute crinkling around his buglike eyes, and Kagome was delighted that he had come.

               “Before this whole mess, did you have a productive break?”

              “Ah!” Kagome exclaimed, and bowed her head once more. “Thank you for your guidance earlier this Spring. None of the internships you recommended to me panned out, but –”

              “Yes, Aotsuki-kun told me about that,” Myouga said. “He asked for my permission before extending his offer to you; most appropriate of him. But then he always is the soul of propriety – good boy, that one, if a little bit of a misanthrope.” He seemed to realize his thoughts had derailed, and waved his hand dismissively. “I was surprised that none of the internships were offered to you. A number of them called me, as one of your references, and at least three of them asked me for permission to speak to your professors further after the glowing recommendation I gave you.”

              Kagome’s heart stuttered in her chest.

              Her professors…?

              Did that mean…

              “But I _have_ received a report from Aotsuki-kun that your work was superlative. He even said something along the lines that, despite the nature of the work being greatly repetitive and far less than exciting, it was completed with such a degree of mindfulness, care, and attention to detail, that he has never found his work more organized or as easily compiled. He instructed me to inform you that he has a letter of recommendation prepared for you, and to stop by his office at your disposal to receive it.”

              Oh.

              Kagome lowered her gaze to her hands, twisting in her lap, as she thanked him for relaying the compliment as well as the message, and for having been so supportive while she had been looking for a summer placement.

              The formerly stern-faced nurse entered the room then, face far gentler and sweeter than Kagome had seen it thus far, then asked if Kagome was ready for her next round of pain medication. Myouga-sensei took this as his cue to go.

              As the nurse administered the medications, Kagome closed her eyes, determinedly not thinking about the possibility that Naraku had sabotaged her applications, and _decidedly_ not thinking about the fact that this probably meant that Sesshoumaru – no, no. Aotsuki-sensei – was not going to visit.

              It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

 

-+-

 

              The phrase ‘you don’t go to a hospital to rest’ was making more and more sense to her, by the dawn of the next day. Nurses and lab technicians were in and out of her room, waking her every few hours during the night to draw blood or offer medications, or turn her, or take her vital signs, or futz around in her room for _some_ reason or another. The reality of the amount of care a stab wound required was beginning to settle in, and she felt a growing resentment and anger at the whole situation.

              What a difference a day could make!

              Kagura had tried to kill her. _Kill her_. Over… over an essentially worthless little glass bauble. On behalf of the man that made her academic life a misery over the past several months. She screamed into her pillow, and her fury only grew when the deep breath she took for that scream made her wound ache.

              Breakfast came, and with it, Kagome’s raging anger depressed down into a simmering bitterness. She ate without tasting anything and took a restless nap after her meal.

              When she woke again, it was to a marginal improvement in her mood. She reached for the book Miroku had brought her and opened it to the marked page. It was an account – a very detailed, colorful account – of how the jewel had ended up in pieces, written by an elderly Miko by the name of Kaede, some two-hundred years after its disappearance.

              Kagome leaned back into her pillows as she started to read. 

              _“The Shikon no Tama, which had been assumed gone forever when burned with the remains of my great ancestor, its protector, has reappeared. I, Kaede, have witnessed its reappearance. A young girl, name of Rin, orphaned by the wolf youkai clan of the North, appeared in our humble village, having stowed away on various conveyances to cover the distance without walking its entirety. She was discovered in the back of a hay-cart by its proprietor when he arrived in town and stopped to inspect his wares, and she had fallen asleep in the warmth of the hay-pile. This is an event of months gone now – since then, the girl has been in my care, and is a dutiful child, helpful and obedient, and with a great potential for learning. Upon discovering her intelligence, I began to teach her the ways of the bow, of spiritual energy, and the learnings of our kind, and she has shown a spark of reiki within her that may grow to outshine my own._

_It was in the morning this day gone past, that she was sent to collect some herbs in the vicinity of the Bone-Eaters’ well, a dry well basin in which the refuse of slain demon bodies is discarded to rot, that the girl Rin was set upon by a vicious crow demon, who attacked her, gouged through her left side, and in doing so produced the Shikon no Tama itself from her rent flesh. It was by a stroke of luck that the hanyou Inuyasha, who has made the forest near the Bone-Eaters’ Well his domain for the last several hundred years, was nearby – he quelled the beast that attacked the girl Rin and saw to her safe return to the village._

_So it happens that during the conflict with the demon, however, the girl Rin had made the error of wielding her bow, and in shooting at the demon, struck a blow upon its claw with her arrow. The claw was closed around the stolen Jewel of Four Souls, which shattered when pierced by the arrowhead, and dispersed flying shards of the stone for many miles in every direction._

_I have known her many moods – seen her tears upon recounting the deaths of her family members and ostracization from the town in which she was born – but never have I seen a stricken grief like this in the child. Of course something must be done._

_Hanyou Inuyasha arrived this morning after an exhaustive search of the nearby area, returning to us a handful of shards of the Shikon no Tama. When held in hand of a Miko, the dull pink shards fuse together. To demon-kind, as they are, they no longer hold the charm and allure they did before the stone was purified by my great ancestor Kikyou, with whose body the Jewel was burned when it disappeared from this earth. Inuyasha tells that the chunk of the stone we have retrieved is barely noticeable to those of his kind. It is my surmise that in being encased in Rin’s body, surrounded by her burgeoning spiritual power, it came to obtain some polish, which drew the crow demon to attack; but now, being away from the fount of reiki, has resumed its lackluster sheen._

_The girl Rin has vowed to track down and retrieve the remaining pieces, however many hundred there may be, and has left the village in the company of Inuyasha, to seek an audience for the assistance of his elder half-brother Sesshoumaru of the West._

Whoa, what?

              Kagome’s metaphorical antennae stood on end. Goosepimples erupted over her skin, and she felt the shivers of discovery course over her body. This was probably what had caught Miroku’s attention, why he had bookmarked this passage for her. There was more to read, but she had to stop there.

              Her mind spun. She had known that Aotsuki-sensei was involved in the Jewel’s history. She vividly recalled the quote from that letter – “Sesshoumaru-sama, who as you know, has some influence over the region, has been active in the effort to contain the threat.” But this would make him _intimately_ involved in it, wouldn’t it? She hoped there was more detail on that in the next pages.

              And his _half-brother_ , who Kouga had a history of altercations with… Inuyasha. A half-brother, and a half-demon.

              _Whaaaaaaat_.

              How would Sesshoumaru feel about youkai-human relations, having had a _hanyou_ for a half-brother?

              She closed the book and let her hands fall into her lap.

              Was Inuyasha even alive anymore?

              Pain and pain medication were combining to make for some fairly slow processing speeds, but she was pretty blow away.

              As it happened, she was distracted from these earth-shattering revelations by a knock on the door, followed by an unfamiliar, older nurse making her way inside. “I have your antibiotics, dear,” she said. She paused to look at the empty dishes on the tray table, before murmuring praise for Kagome’s appetite. “Once you’ve taken these, are you available for a visitor?”

              Her weathered hand pressed a small plastic cup with two white pills into Kagome’s palm, and then held aloft a glass of water. Kagome nodded, taking the medications and handing back the small pill cup.

              “He’s quite the remarkable-looking young man, and so well-mannered,” the nurse went on to say, winking. “Being such a beautiful girl yourself, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were your boyfriend?”

              Kagome sputtered, a half-hope burbling in her chest, as she shook her head in denial of any such man in her life.

              “Just wait a moment, dear. I’ll send him in.”

              The privacy curtain swished once with the nurse’s departure, and then again with the arrival of her visitor. Kagome kept her eyes screwed shut. She was half agony, half hope.

              “Hey.”

              The agony smothered the hope in an instant, but she was able to open her eyes with a smile. “Kouga-kun,” she greeted, recognizing the white case in his hands as belonging to a favorite patisserie of hers. Her smile became a little more genuine. He really was so thoughtful.

              “You flaked on me,” he said, a wry smile showing teeth that were really too sharp to be human, now that she took the time to think about it. “But considering where you ended up instead, I guess I can forgive you.”

              She laughed, then grimaced at the pain in her midsection; he apologized and handed her the box of pastries. It was an assortment of tiny cakes, and one plain glazed donut, on its side, tucked into the box like a secret. “You remembered my favorite,” Kagome said, gifting him with the radiance of her happiness. The donut was pulled out by careful fingers, and shameless of her greed, Kagome chomped down on it immediately.

              This time Kouga laughed, eyes on her as he settled in beside her. “You look like shit,” he observed.

              She shrugged, shoving another piece of the sticky sweet donut into her mouth. There was silence between them, which Kagome filled with the sound of her chewing, her moans of elation, and then with the slurping of her fingertips to extract every last grain of sugar from her sticky skin.

              “Thank you,” she said, and reached for a wet towelette that had come up with her breakfast tray, but gone unused.

              Kouga looked down at his hands, wrapped together between his knees. “I’ve never… I’ve never been this nervous in my whole life.”

              Kagome, who had been wiping her hands clean, looked up at him, and was surprised to see the naked truth of his anxiety shining in his brilliant blue eyes. “Are things that different?”

              “ _Yes_. Shit, yes, they are.” He reached out, plucking the towelette from her fingers and discarding it on the tray table so he could wrap his hands around hers. “I’ve always wanted you to know. Knowing that you _should_ know, and not being able to tell you… it’s been really hard on me, since I met you back in middle school.” He closed his eyes, and the tension in his cheeks belied the effort he was making to appear calm. “Lying by omission, you know… it never felt so _deceitful_ and _wrong_ before I met you.” And then his eyes were on hers again, with an intensity that should have felt familiar, but which startled her to the roots of her hair. “But now you _know_.”

              There was no way she could understand the depth of the feeling that was glimmering in his eyes as he looked at her. She knew it. He was _hundreds_ of years old, she reminded herself. He had grown up in a world that cowered before him, and now he lived in a world where he had to hide who he was from everyone. There was no way she could understand it. So instead, she laid her hand over his, and squeezed in reassurance.

              “I don’t… know everything. I’m catching up on a lot, still. And I admit, I’ve glossed over a lot of it in favor of learning about one particular thing.” She reached up and touched her necklace; he followed the movement and gave her a lopsided smile.

              “I can tell you about it, you know,” he said. “What’s better than an interview with someone who lived through it?”

               “Really?” She gushed, and felt the color rise in her cheeks.

              “What do you want to know?” His voice was indulgent, and he leaned back in his seat, a cocky tilt to his head.

              “Oh my gosh, _everything_.”

              His laugh made her smile broaden. “Give me someplace to start, girl.”

              “Were you involved in the search for the jewel shards?”

              “Not at first,” he said. He started talking, and Kagome was transported. The Tokyo of today disappeared as she imagined the verdant country he lived in, centuries ago. He had been living in his pack’s den on the mountainside at the time; in the Northern territories. Generally, their lives were quiet and insular, but as head of his pack, he had occasional involvement with the leaders of the world around them.

              “Wait, pack leader?”

              “Yeah,” he said. “Ain’t no joke why Ginta called me ‘Prince’, you know?”

              “How many of you were there?” He answered somewhere around sixty. “Do you all still live as a wolf-pack today?”

              “Not in the same way we did before. We tend to stay nearby one another, but in todays’ world it would seem suspicious to have sixty-some people living in a small area together how we did back then. My pack is split up, but the majority live in one of two apartment complexes in the city. We make a point of together time, though.”

              A memory bubbled up, of him taking off with relatives throughout their youth. “Family camping trips, four times a year,” she supplied, and he booped her nose in confirmation. “So, but, like, what does it even mean to be a _wolf youkai_? You live in packs. What makes you a wolf, though?”

              He laughed, excitedly, positively eating up her curiosity and enthusiasm. “We’re not werewolves,” he said. “And we’re _not_ wolves. At least not how you think. We can take the shape of a wolf, and the wolf is naturally the beast we feel the most affinity with. We have a lot in common. Sense of smell, speed, pack mentality, mating patterns,” he waggled his eyebrows. “But youkai aren’t anthropomorphized animals, you know.”

              Kagome mentally reeled in surprise at such a big word coming from his lips.

              “It’s a little hard to explain.” He shrugged.

              “Do you have a tail I need to know about?” She teased, and was delighted by the colorful blush that stained his cheeks. “Oh, _no way_. Can I see it?”

              He sputtered and shook his head vehemently. “Another time,” he choked out, before rearranging himself into a guise of calm. “Way to get me side-tracked. Where was I?”

              Inuyasha had shown up within the boundaries of his territory, carting a Miko around behind him – an _absolute_ faux pas, in those days, as opposed to the _total_ faux pas it would be now – in search of some shards of the Shikon no Tama that had purportedly landed in the vicinity. The girl was able to hear them, he had been told. They would be in and out and out of his hair without delay.

              “Of course, Inuyasha was an arrogant bastard and had a mouth on him, so the conversation we had wasn’t nearly that tame.” Kouga cleared his throat and glanced aside. “Blows may have been exchanged.”

              “ _May_ have.”

              “Or, you know, may not have,” he said, coloring again.

              “Who won?” Kagome asked, voice cloyingly sweet.

              “ _I_ decided to be the better man and let them have at it,” said Kouga, resolutely ignoring the question. But while Inuyasha and Rin were scrambling around his territory, something happened. Rin’s power was growing, and the shards at her neck were starting to have that polish they’d had before, in bygone days, that had been so dangerous. “To us, you know, it _sang_.”

              He sighed and looked wistfully off into the distance, and Kagome was struck by how similar that look was to the one Yura had made when commenting on the Jewel. It was a look full of longing.

              “It was irresistible. It called out to you and got under your skin and promised you endless power and wishes granted.” He shook his head, as if trying to dispel the hold the memory had on him. She was fascinated by the scene. But he continued.

              The unlikely duo of hanyou and Miko were getting into a lot of scuffles over the incomplete bauble around her neck. And things were getting worse – much worse – as rumor spread over the resurrection of the Jewel. Kouga admitted to having found two shards, and holding on them, in hopes of their coming back to life with their promises of power. But eventually, when he became aware of the negative aura that clouded them in his hands, and how it began to cause strife in his pack, he handed them over to the Miko. Rin, Kagome supplied, mentally. “That’s about where _my_ involvement in the story ended.”

              “I read –” Kagome paused, hesitant to say the name that she knew would bring Kouga pain, but then forged on – “that Sesshoumaru was involved in her… uh… quest.”

              He flinched but answered her smoothly. “He was, only indirectly at first. But he was a big part of finishing it.” The ‘indirectly at first’ part was referring to Sesshoumaru’s incidental involvement at the beginning of their quest, in connecting them with an ancient tree youkai named Bokusenou, who, with his vast roots, was able to direct them to the locations of several of the shards outside of Rin’s range of perception. “That’s how they ended up in my neck of the woods in the first place,” he explained.

              “I had stepped out by then, but,” he rubbed the back of his neck, the way he always did when he was a little uncomfortable, “when the rumors got bad enough, they reached the ears of some very dangerous bad guys. There was one spider-hanyou in particular who wanted the Shikon no Tama. He did some pretty underhanded stuff to try to get it — resurrecting Inuyasha’s dead lover and turning her against him, conning other youkai into acting as intermediaries or attempting to assassinate them – you name it. But when things got to their breaking point, when the Miko had collected the bulk of the shards, and he had the rest, and it seemed like he might get his hands on the completed Jewel after all, Sessoumaru stepped in and ended it.”

              “How?” She asked, with bated breath.

              “He nigh on killed the bastard.”

              Kagome blinked. “But he… didn’t kill him?”

              “As good as killed him,” he grunted. “The next time we heard of any activity from him it was at least a hundred years later. By then the whole situation with the Jewel was resolved, anyway, so it didn’t matter.”

              There was a knock on the door and the kindly, elderly nurse excused herself as she made her way in the room to clear the empty breakfast tray. “The wound specialist will be here in a few minutes to check on you, dear,” she chimed as she left.

              “How was it resolved?” Kagome asked, voice low, secretive.

              Kouga shrugged. “The Miko fused both halves of the jewel and purified it with her reiki. It was deader than it was before she broke it, according to Inuyasha. No shine, no appeal at all. So much for granting a wish with its power, right? She took it back to her town, then strung it up on a necklace and hid it in a storage room someplace, and it disappeared into history.”

              “That’s kind of a disappointing ending,” Kagome huffed, deflating a little.

              “Not so disappointing,” Kouga smirked, “considering the alternatives. And besides.” He leaned in, and that charming smile dazzled her as his hand reached out to tweak the Shikon no Tama on the chain around her neck. “Story ain’t quite over yet is it?”

              “You don’t think so?”

              He shrugged again, and something about his expression again reminded her of Yura’s when Kagome had asked what someone would want with the Jewel. “It ain’t like it _was_ , but it don’t feel as dead as all that anymore.”

              Heart thundering in her chest, Kagome felt an anxious warmth spread throughout her body. She looked at Kouga, taking some comfort from the fact that he was calm, before forcing herself to leave that nervousness behind. “Is… is Inuyasha still alive?”

              The question seemed to take him off-guard, and he released a surprised, strangled noise, eyebrows rising into his hairline. “Nah, that fucker died a while back. He’d been around for a while, wasn’t getting any younger, so he picked a fight with a mean son of a gun to see himself out.”

              “Huh.” She heard the nurse’s voice in the hallway. Shoot. Running out of time. A little confirmation first, before time’s up. “You mentioned everyone else’s name, except the Miko.”

              “Oh. Ran – Rin – Rin, I think it was.”

              And a little curiosity. “And the bad guy?”

              He stood; she would put money on him having heard something behind the door. “Ugh. I’ve never met him personally, but that motherfucker has been a thorn in our side forever. Naraku.”

              The world stopped turning.

              A knock on the door.

              “That’s my cue, babe. We’ve got more to talk about… can I come back tomorrow?”

              Kagome was too busy seeing stars to process much, but she must have nodded her head.

              The next moment Kouga let himself out, the nurse and the wound specialist came in, and Kagome surrendered herself to their ministrations without a single cogent thought in her head.

-+-

              For the duration of the day, thoughts swirled and simmered in Kagome’s mind, but she was so distraught and perplexed that she could not begin to organize them. There was a lot she needed to come to terms with, and until her conversation with Kouga she had felt that the sum total of those _things_ was likely insurmountable. But this… this was the cherry on top.

              Or the straw that broke the camel’s back, more appropriately.

              She cried for a long time that evening. The nurses were worried, and she heard the echoes of their conversation outside her room. Irrationally she wanted to lash out at them not to talk about her in the hallway where anyone could find out that she was a total mess and couldn’t handle life, because was this even life anymore, now that she had lost even the most tenuous grasp on what was _real_?

              Someone had tried to kill her, her harasser was a supervillain, and the love of her life likely had a mountain-sized pile of baggage around having relationships with humans. Oh yeah. And none of the three sources of her misery were _even human_. Everything was horrible and the more she thought about it the worse it got.

              Eventually she stopped crying and fell asleep.

              A nurse aid woke her for dinner, and as she shoveled the tasteless food into her mouth, she contemplated how she would ever face Aotsuki-sensei again. Maybe she’d get lucky and it would be a blue moon before she had to share space with him next [2]. Hah. Hah.

              Kouga texted her, telling her that he would be stopping by to see her around lunchtime the next day, and asking if she wanted more donuts. She replied that she was looking forward to talking more, but not as much as she was looking forward to another piece of plain-glazed perfection.

              Perhaps due to having slept through the majority of the day, or perhaps because of the anxiety that had descended on her after Kouga left, she had a fitful night. She tossed and turned, which aggravated her wound, so her pain levels shot up, which meant more medication, which meant she awoke feeling exhausted and hazy, and sore, and angry.

              But she did her best to reign herself in, once the breakfast tray was placed before her. There was a lot she needed to sort through, emotionally and intellectually, and that wasn’t going to happen if she allowed herself to be overcome. She couldn’t, in body, go to the library as she always did to manage her troubles. But she could in spirit.

              So, she opened her book, and continued to read. Much of what followed in the text corroborated Kouga’s account of things. But after a few page-turns, the thread of the story appeared lost, and what followed was a total non-sequitur, an account of a demon that had possessed a lacquered comb, and taking the shape of a beautiful woman, attacked passers-by for their hair.

              Thwarted, Kagome resorted to watching variety TV for the remainder of the morning.

              At around noon, her cellphone chimed and Kagome was delighted to see a message from Kouga. _Hey. Be there soon_.

              A little earlier than expected, but she was happy for the distraction.

              Not three minutes later, a knock sounded on the door.

              “Oh wow, you’re _early –_ “ Kagome sucked in a breath.

              “Not who you were expecting?”

              Before her stood the object of her nightmares. Tall, pale, dark-haired and red-eyed, with a cruel twist to his thin, sinister lips, there stood Naraku. The man who had spurred Kagura’s attempted murder. The man who had apparently _raised a dead woman from the grave_ , to attack his enemy and her former lover. “Naraku-sensei,” she murmured, hand immediately rising to tuck her necklace under the neckline of her hospital gown. “Thank you for coming,” she ground out, clamping her jaw shut.

              “How could I neglect such a valued student, in her time of need?” He asked, pulling back one of the guest chairs and claiming it for his own. The sick uneasiness that he caused in her began to rear its ugly head, and Kagome fought within herself not to let it take control. “I heard from Myouga-sensei about what happened. Any word regarding the perpetrator?”

              Her eyes widened, marginally. So he didn’t know. Or was he faking? “Nothing yet,” she replied carefully. “But I’m sure they’ll apprehend her soon enough.”

              “Her?” Now his eyes widened, but with him it was impossible to tell if he was genuine or faking his surprise.

              “Yes,” Kagome said, and after a milliseconds’ hesitation, steeled her resolve. “Myouji Kagura.”

              She had him. His brows twitched, and his face froze, and he leaned back in his chair. “My goodness,” was all he said. Kagome watched him, refusing to speak until he offered more than that. “They do say that knives are overwhelmingly used in personal attacks,” he ventured at length. “I wonder what she could have had against you?”

              What a thing to say! She tried not to gawk but couldn’t help shaking her head just a little. “I wouldn’t know,” Kagome said, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “She didn’t say much.”

              As the silence stretched between them, Kagome tightly coiled her fingers together in her lap, mentally ticking off all of the things she could say without giving herself away. As far as Naraku knew, she still didn’t know _what_ he was.

              But she needn’t have worried. He changed the topic for her. “Before this happened, did you have a leisurely break? You must have found _something_ to occupy yourself. You never took me up on my offer to you before the break.”

              “Ah – “ She bit her lip. She was sure there was no sense in lying. Myouga-sensei would spill the beans soon enough; he was a gossipy old man. “Aotsuki-sensei was forwarded my resume from one of the internships that I applied to; he offered me a position.”

              “Of course he did,” Naraku said, and there was an edge of something seething in his voice, which was completely hidden from his expression. “I’m glad you were able to utilize your connections to the best of your ability once more, Higurashi-kun.”

              _This rotten –!_

He stood, paced around the room and then turned to look at her. “I feel as though things have taken an unexpected turn, somehow, in our association. I am your supervisor, and meant to fill the role of your mentor, after the honorable Chiaki-sensei passed, but I can’t help but feel that position has been usurped.”

              She had zero doubts in her mind that this was 100% bullshit. “Nobody could hope to fill Chiaki-sensei’s shoes,” she murmured, and hoped her voice sounded conciliatory. “He was like family to me.”

              Naraku looked at her askance but pressed forward. “Of course nobody can replace him. Be that as it may –” he cut himself off and turned away from her for a moment before resuming his place in the chair.

              What had she said that had gotten him off his game this much? Was it the revelation that Kagura had been her assailant?

              “Be that as it may, I feel that things have gotten off on rocky ground between us. I have said before that I am highly invested in your success, and this is true.” His flat, expressionless eyes bore into her, and she was beginning to see that he was speaking to two truths at once. “I desire you… to do well, in this program. And that we may have a more pleasant interaction moving forward.”

              He reached out, and Kagome held still as best she could, as he laid his hand over hers.

              “As a gesture of good faith, allow me to inform you of this: It is incidentally true that the woman who attacked you is a distant relation of mine, and I have seen her recently. Because you have been open enough to confide in me her name, I am able to go to the proper authorities to see to it that she can never commit such a crime again.”

              What?

              He pulled his hand back. “I am very protective of what is mine,” he said, and the way the corners of his lips twitched upward sent shivers crawling unpleasantly down her spine. “This includes you. As my _cherished_ student. Excuse me; I’ll be on my way now. Do feel better soon.”

              What?

              Once the room was clear of him and the oppressive sickening aura Kagome recognized as his youki, she was able to breathe once more. But, yet again, her mind was in chaos, completely paralyzed in confusion and anxiety.

              It must have been five minutes that passed before Kouga walked in the door, small white pastry box in hand, happy-go-lucky smile on his face.

              It disappeared immediately when he saw her expression. He put down the donut box and rushed to her side. “Kagome? What’s wrong?”

              “Can’t you _smell_ him?” She asked, fighting to keep the panic from her voice.

              Kouga scrunched up his nose. “It’s hard to smell much past the antiseptic and bleach,” he apologized, touching a hand to side of her face. “Who?”

              Her eyes filled with tears. “Naraku,” she answered, voice breaking. She hiccupped and launched herself into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, but there was a stiffness in his movement that gave away his surprise.

              “ _What_?”

              “I couldn’t say it yesterday,” Kagome managed around mouthful of gasping sobs. “He’s been my supervisor since the start of the school year. I always thought something was off about him. He… insinuates things… he… Kagura told me he wanted me _and_ the Jewel… and…” She burrowed into him, relishing the comfort of his hand stroking her hair. “Today he… he said I belonged to him… and…”

              She lost her voice to the tears, and he held her, gently, soothingly. When it seemed she had calmed enough to answer, he murmured a question into her ear. “Was that him? That first day we ran into each other, at the library?”

              Kagome nodded. His jaw, where it rested on the crown of her head, tensed.

              “If… if I had your permission, I could step in on your behalf,” he said, voice hesitant. He set her away from him, so that he could look into her bleary, red-rimmed eyes. “If I claim you as mine, our court will handle this for us. As easy as that, it would be over.”

              Curiously, apart from the intensity of his gaze and the determination in his voice, she felt nothing from him. No warm fuzzies, no nostalgic longing. He was so honest, so earnest. So good. So why couldn’t she love him? “But you can’t just claim me as yours,” she said, “can you?”

              He colored bright red, but his gaze never wavered. “It would be like… like a marriage. In the eyes of our kind.”

              “Are you proposing?” She asked, stunned.

              “If I were, would you say yes?”

              She became acutely aware of the feeling of his hands where they gripped her shoulders. Steady, strong. Sweating. “Oh, Kouga-kun…”

              “So I’m not proposing,” he replied quickly. Too quickly. Kagome watched the change in his face. Something in his eyes shuttered. His grip on her slackened. “It was just one solution,” he offered, and he looked away. “We’ll have to… we’ll have to think of something different.” His hands gathered in his lap, and she was sure they were shaking. “Like I said, he’s been a thorn in the side of the youkai community for centuries now. We’ll figure something else out.”

              “Kouga-kun…” She reached for him, desperate to comfort him.

              Now that she knew who he _truly_ was, it was unfathomable how he could have picked her, out of all the people he had encountered, to be so steadfastly in love with. And it pained her to not be able to return those feelings. But no matter how much she couldn’t _love_ him, she did love him. He had been so important to her for so long. His friendship and support, and his kindness, and his light-heartedness… they were all still important to her. She wanted, more than anything, to heal this rift between them, and have things be easy once again.

              “Kagome, I –”

              He wasn’t looking at her.

              “I know… it can’t be me. For you.” He looked up at her now, and his smile was so watery and weak that her heart ripped in two. “But don’t let it be him. Sesshoumaru. He—he’s dangerous. Even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t see things like I do. He won’t come around.” He reached up and wiped a tear from his eye. “Don’t let him break your heart. This ain’t the kind of misery that wants company.”

              She put her hand over his, but was unable to say anything in return.

              “We’ll talk about solutions later,” he said, standing. “I think I’d better go. I brought you donuts.” He was almost at the door, before he stopped and turned around. “I think you’ll have figured this out by now, but I want to be sure you don’t misunderstand. We were fighting over you. But Sesshoumaru is a possessive fuck. He wouldn’t be coy if he was serious. He would have laid his claim in no uncertain terms when I confronted him about it.” He moved toward the door again, and then stopped once more. “Also, he saw me kiss you, in the café.”

              Kagome knew there was a lot to unpack there, but Kouga was leaving and she needed him to know something before he left, so she set all of what he’d said aside. “Kouga-kun. We’ll always be friends, won’t we? Maybe we won’t see each other for a while, but… someday, we will?”

              “If that’s what you want, Kagome,” he said, voice breaking, and hurried out the door.

              For hours after he left, she ran through their conversation, and what he had said about Sesshoumaru. Occasionally she would distract herself from her heartbreak with terror and revisit her chat with Naraku. But inevitably, it would go back to Kouga’s words about the man she loved. _He wouldn’t be coy if he was serious._

              She hoped fervently with every bone in her body over the next twenty-four hours, that, even if only out of a sense of duty, the social mandate of Omimai would bring Sesshoumaru to her. There was so much she wanted to say. So much she needed to ask.

              But by the afternoon of the next day, only one question had received an answer.

              As her mother ushered Kagome out of the hospital and down to the car to take her home, agony quashed hope again.

              He never came to see her.

              And he wouldn’t be coy, if he was serious.          

 

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who caught the Persuasion reference? Also I guess this has ventured into the world of angst now too, huh? In her defense, she's had a lot going on. It had to happen at some point. We'll be back to regularly scheduled happy go lucky Kagome next time. For those of you missing the oft-named but nary-seen Sensei, he makes his reappearance next chapter. Look forward to it, dolls.
> 
>  
> 
> Footnotes…
> 
> [1] Omimai: Hospital visits are common in the rest of the world too, of course. Flower arrangements and fruits are common gifts brought when visiting, and are only ‘mandatory’ the first time you visit, since empty-handedness on the first visit is bad form. Interestingly, potted plants are to be avoided, and this is because of another Japanese pun – to ‘take root’ and to ‘be bedbound’ are homophones.
> 
> [2] I’m not sure if I ever explained this, but Sesshoumaru’s family name is Aotsuki, written 青月 and meaning blue moon.


	14. 恋愛 Love: Your love will not be returned. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Huehuehuehue Ψ(☆ｗ☆)Ψ

 

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Fourteen

_恋愛 Love: Your love will not be returned. Part II_

She was discharged from the hospital in mid-August, just five days after summer break was over, wondering where the time had gone. So much about returning to school was difficult. Walking the distance from her apartment to campus, even though the summer sun was waning, was exhausting, and by the end of the trek, painful. Her medications made it hard to concentrate for the duration of an entire lecture, and impossible to focus with her usual attention to detail. She had been provided with a digital recorder by the University’s Accessibility Office, and permission to record lectures to ease the note-taking burden, but catching up on notes from the recordings was time consuming and laborious.

              Every time she took a seat, whichever hand was free would hover over her shirt where the rent flesh was, not quite touching, but shielding it from the world nonetheless. She was sure she was courting infection, with all the sweating and walking and bumping around, but when she followed up with her physician to see to the wound, Dr. Satou had said it was healing remarkably well and remarkably quickly, her usually calm voice both pleased and perplexed.

               Her mother had fretted about her, insisting that Kagome come back to their house at the shrine, that she would drive her to school each day and help her manage her chores and errands. _In retrospect_ , Kagome thought on several occasions, _I should have just let her baby me_. Oh well.

              In this manner, a week passed, and then another, and then another. By mid-September, Kagome had made a number of efforts to find Aotsuki-sensei in his office, but he proved elusive. Each time she stopped by his office door and saw the lights were off behind it, it became a little easier to call him Aotsuki-sensei in her head, though no less painful. The reality was getting harder and harder to reject. Aotsuki-sensei had played her, cruelly; knowing what she knew about him, she still couldn’t understand _why_ , or why he would have approached her in the first place, but there was no disputing the facts.

              Eventually, she gave up on chance bringing them together, and gathered her bravery to send him a text message. She labored over it for an accumulated total of 45 minutes, spread out over three days. This is what, after painful deliberation, she eventually ended up sending out: _Thank you for your message through Myouga-sensei. He mentioned you had a letter for me. Again, thank you. Where/when can I come to pick it up?_

              His response was nearly instantaneous: _My office hours are on Wednesday, between 3 and 4:30._

              The wait until Wednesday nearly killed her.

              She took an inordinate amount of time dressing that morning, and roped Sango into her efforts. “Have a hot date or something?”

              Kagome snorted. “I’m meeting with Aotsuki-sensei today,” she said, pulling another dress off its hanger.

              “Ah,” Sango replied, voice full of understanding. She rolled over on Kagome’s bed so that she lay on her stomach and propped her head up in her hands. “A woman’s pride.”

              “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Kagome quipped. She studied her reflection. “Too short,” she pronounced, and tossed the dress over the back of a chair.

              “Are you gonna... you know, _unleash_ that fury on him?”

              “I’m not going to say a single thing about it,” Kagome’s chin raised a fraction. “I’ll get my rec letter, thank him, and walk out with my head held high.” She looked at her closet, now half empty, and frowned. “If only I still had that yellow sundress.”

              Sango nodded in agreement. “It would’ve struck the perfect chord of ‘looking great’ and ‘not trying hard at all’. Shame.” She paused. “Would’ve been a bit tight around the middle though.”

              Kagome grimaced, hand floating over her wound once more. Though mostly healed now, tight clothing had a way of irritating it. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear a dress. Men sometimes read dresses as dressing up, even if they’re casual, right?”

              “True.”

              Two pairs of eyes turned contemplatively to her dresser.

              “What about those dark blue capris you have—the ones with the upturned hems? – and that white top?”

              “The off-the-shoulder one?” Kagome tapped her chin. It was a loose, comfortable top. With a cute bralette under it, it would look just fashionable enough, over the pants. “Let me try it on.”

              “Maybe throw your blue scarf and that little leather jacket you have over it…?” Sango watched as her friend stripped out of her pajamas and into the proposed outfit. “A woman’s outfit is like her armor,” she intoned. “I think that’s a good choice.”

              Kagome turned around in front of her mirror, peeking over her shoulder. It was a good look: The slouchy top was balanced by the trim silhouette of the capris. Looking great, not trying too hard. Her lips thinned in determination.

              “Speaking of teachers,” Sango ventured, now having rolled onto her back again, “how are things with Naraku?”

              Kagome’s wary sigh spoke volumes. “I haven’t seen or heard much from him since his Omimai visit in August. I know he’s planning something, though.”

              “…Any word about Kagura?”

              She shook her head in response. “Last time I heard from the police was when they called me to let me know that one of her _relatives_ ,” they exchanged a knowing look “had provided them with information about her whereabouts. I guess that didn’t amount to much, though, because that was a week ago.”

              Now Sango sighed. “Well. One thing at a time. You look good enough to eat. Mr. Hot Stuff is going to feel his foolishness to the roots of his hair.”

              Kagome checked her new phone case with a flip cover, ID slot and money clip, to make sure she had enough cash for lunch and likely dinner, before she slipped the little wristlet over her hand. She had had to forgo a purse since the injury, and although she was cleared to start using one again by Dr. Satou, Kagome chose to be cautious and limit her physical load. And so, she ventured from home and to campus, Sango beside her and carrying her bag, and girded herself for the upcoming meeting.

 

 

              The hours passed slowly. She went to class, then to the library to study, then to class again. In the interest of appearing nonchalant, she decided not to be at office hours at three on the dot, but to show up sometime in the middle. Before she knew it, the clock chimed four, and she was on her way from the library to the faculty offices, at a sedate pace to accommodate her injury.

              By the time she arrived at his office door, it was quarter past four. The light was on inside the office. Kagome swallowed, feeling a knot form in her stomach, before approaching the door to knock. His voice from the other side was sweetly familiar, and it sent a wave of longing over her. He _must_ know it was she, standing in the hallway. He was _youkai,_ with superior sense of hearing and smell. He _must_ know. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, intent on sticking true to her purpose, and pushed open the door.

              The sight that greeted her was familiar, and heart-wrenching in its familiarity. Aotsuki-sensei sat, perched on his office chair and peering at his computer screen, bathed in a combination of sunlight from the window and fluorescent light from overhead, which bounced off his silken silver hair as though through a prism. The books, the smell of coffee, the sight of the red-upholstered chairs across from the desk… it was all as she remembered it.

              In tune as she never had been before to this new aspect of the world, Kagome focused on what she felt in the air. There was that familiar buzzing around her, that vibration in the air that lapped against her skin in waves. That feeling. Of calm, and floating.

              Her eyes were fixed on his topaz-colored irises, but she was so focused on the sensation of his youki that she did not notice when his gaze turned from the screen to meet with hers. Instead, she was busy trying to see if she could visualize the waves around her. Surprisingly, she was able to make out the faintest trace of green light, pulsing forward from his form and in her direction. The calming sensation he projected was distracting, obfuscating this new sight, so she reached out mentally to push it away, and felt that tingle in her fingertips.

              The sound of his chair scraping backwards as he shot to his feet shattered her concentration, and she looked up at him with wide, startled eyes.

              “Aotsuki-sensei,” she murmured, realizing she had been standing in the room in silence for what was likely a good few minutes.

              He narrowed his eyes, and she could swear she saw his nostrils flare. Was he _smelling_ her? “Higurashi,” he replied, and inclined his head a fraction.

              Nothing more was said between them as they stared at one another, each apparently wrapped up in their own thoughts. Aotsuki-sensei put his in order first, and reached for the vintage leather courier bag he carried his papers in.

              “I have erred in my choice of venue,” he declared, tucking a pair of folders and a book into the bag before he zipped it closed once more. He pulled the strap over his head and accommodated it on his shoulder. “Come,” he said in that way of his, and, perplexed, Kagome turned to follow him.

              She was struck speechless, when, as he passed her on his way toward the door, he plucked her bag from her shoulder with an ‘allow me’. She preceded him out of the office, watching as he locked the door, then followed as he led her down the hallway and outside the building into the sunlight, mentally reeling the entire way.

              That they were going to his apartment was abundantly clear, even before they passed through the campus gates. She tried once during the walk to address the change of location: having decided, ultimately, that she was going to stick to her original plan and keep the interaction short and formal, and that being in his apartment would make it much more difficult to pull off the exit she had planned, she raised her voice with his name once more, in question. But he said nothing in reply, merely shooting her a look over his shoulder as they made their way in a deliberately slow pace to his place of residence.

              Friendly, sweet Tanaka-san greeted them by the door. He called the elevator for them and winked at Kagome conspiratorially as she got inside. They were silent again, as the elevator climbed, as he opened the front door, and after Kagome called _ojama-shimasu_ into the mostly empty apartment, which stood unchanged since the last time she was there a month ago.

              Kagome, conscious of his watching her, toed off her shoes in the genkan, hand over her injury, and then walked barefoot into the living room. She stopped, a good four feet away from him, and raised her chin slightly at his perusal. _Let’s do this_. “Myouga-sensei told me you wrote me a letter?” She asked.

              “Yes, of course,” he huffed, annoyance written clearly on his usually stoic features. He made no move to reach for his bag, or move elsewhere to retrieve the letter, simply standing there, eyes narrowed at her. At length, he said, “You _know_. This is a more appropriate location for the, doubtless complex, discussion that will follow.”

              How fascinating, to watch your plans crumble before your very eyes. All hopes of a quick escape with dignity intact now dashed, Kagome wobbled over to the sofa, where she too crumbled onto the cushions. The careless movement, jarring her, caused her to wince in pain. Hand over her abdomen again, she slowly accommodated herself into the corner of the couch, before looking up at him expectantly. “What did you have to say?”

              His eyebrow tweaked upward.

              He approached her, like a predator stalking his prey, with slow, carefully measured movements, before settling beside her on the couch, arm over the back of it, torso turned to face her. “I thought perhaps you might be the one with questions.”

              “Of course I have _questions_ ,” she snipped, turning her face away from him and looking in the general direction of the front door. “But you’re the one who brought me here.”

              “I did,” was his eventual response, and she felt the change in the air around her as that wave of youki rolled over her.

              “ _Stop_ that,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, resolutely avoiding his gaze.

              “No,” was his response.

              Surprised, she turned to look at him, and was shocked out of her wits when he leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. Her hand went to his chest to push him away, but when he placed his hand over hers, pressing her fingers into him, she stilled, the fight leaving her. He pulled back but kept his face close. “What are you _doing_?” She whimpered, frustration and anger warring with excitement and hope. “You ghosted on me for a month and now you’re kissing me like nothing happened? What are you _doing_?”

              He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and pulled away, leaning back on the couch. “I’m not certain,” he sighed, eyes closing.

              “What?”

              “You have been a puzzle to me, Higurashi,” he said, covering his eyes with his forearm, silhouette looking pained though his voice remained level. “Since the moment I met you.”

              “I fail to see—” she started, hoping for indignation, but lost steam immediately. “Why don’t you tell me?” She offered instead.

              “I should have known Myouga was scheming something when he offered me the position here. It was just after Naraku was named as Chiaki-sensei’s replacement. Myouga is a mischievous creature with a delight in vexing me – has been so since my youth. But even knowing Naraku would be close, the offer was attractive.”

              Kagome mentally added a tally under ‘Youkai I know’, shaking her head in bewilderment.

              “You entered the library that day with your reiki like a beacon.” He turned his head, peeking out from under his lashes at her. “It burned. Perhaps you felt it? I attempted to calm you.”

              She thought back to that day in March. What had she been thinking, as she wandered the stacks for the books on her reading list? Excitement about her discoveries… anxiety over Chiaki-sensei’s condition. And then, total peace. “I remember,” she whispered.

              “I do not encounter Miko often,” he said. “But none of them have ever reacted to my youki the way that you have.” His piercing golden gaze was boring into her face, watching for the most minute change in her expression. “It seems to fascinate you,” he said, and she felt the wave of calm wash over her, and the electric skittering across her skin that happened so often when he was close. “Rather than disgust you.”

              Kagome blushed fiercely. She thought of Aunt Mariko, and how she had described the feeling as repulsive. Maybe it was because Kagome had not been trained to associate it with danger, from a young age? Again, she could, just barely, make out the tiniest green tint in the air around her. The wave of youki ebbed, and both the color and the projected calm washed away.

              “It was unthinkable that you did not know about us,” he said, “but it was obvious you did _not_.” His head tilted, and his features grew contemplative, eyes softening a little. “I became curious.” Again, he turned away, shut his eyes and covered them with his forearm.

              If he had said it any other way, Kagome would have been infuriated at the idea that he had seduced her out of curiosity – to see what a Miko was like. But he was not done with his story, and she was not done listening. There had to be more to it.  

              “Naraku’s interest in you became apparent; or perhaps in the Shikon no Tama.”

              “Why did you take it?” She asked, not regretting the interruption.

              “I did not _take_ it, precisely,” he ground out, as though the semantics mattered to her, “but rather, did not find it when you misplaced it.”

              “You said you hadn’t seen it,” she argued.

              “I do not lie,” he said. “I knew it was there but did not seek it until after you left that day.”

              “What _for_?”

              “To take it to an old friend, and ask his opinion.”

              “Who? Opinion about what?”

              He peeked out at her briefly, irritation again written on his expression. “A family friend from before my sire’s time. A tree demon, in the West.”

              Kagome’s eyes widened. “Tree demon?” She remembered the name that Kouga had given her in his retelling of the Miko Rin’s adventures. “Bokusenou?”

              “The same,” Sesshoumaru uttered slowly, sitting up a bit to look at her more closely. “To ask if the Jewel might be revived – if its presence would endanger its wearer.”

              She digested that silently. So he had been worried for her? “You should have just said something.”

              He snorted. After a beat, he resumed his tale. “Kagura followed, with her staunch insistence that I not involve myself with you. As though that whelp has any right to order about her betters,” this aside was spat, bitterly, half under his breath. “And then of course, your wolf.” Again, he turned to her, studying her intensely.

              She felt, despite herself, compelled to explain. “I dated him a little, in high-school. He’s always had a flame for me, I guess. He tried to reignite it when we bumped into each other earlier this year but… he’s not _my_ wolf. And he never will be,” she offered, trying to hide the hope she knew must be shining in her eyes.

              He continued to study her, appearing unmoved by her implication. “I have lived for centuries on centuries,” he said at length, still focused on her, “and with few exceptions, there has never been so concerted an effort by so large a group of individuals, to see that I not gain something which interests me.”

_Do. Not. Blush._

              “Perhaps it was borne from contrariness on my part,” he sighed, “but I became infatuated with you, for a time.”

              She stopped breathing. _For a time._ A pressure settled over her chest.

              “But then I saw the wolf with you, smelled him around you near every time we met. Saw him laying his claim on you in the café. I expected distancing myself from you would end this proximity attraction. And so I did.” His eyes roamed over her face, her body. “I intended to meet with you calmly today and let things lie. I had not been made aware that you _knew_ now. And despite my efforts…” He pushed his youki out at her, and she fought back in frustration, pushing it away from her, fingertips tingling. His eyes darkened, whirling pools of amber, and his voice as he spoke was a rumble in his chest. “… you went and did _that_.”

              He reached out and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her close in a smooth motion. Heart stuttering in her chest, her eyelids fluttered closed, and she returned the kiss.

              So unlike his kisses before, which had been soft, and tender, and cautious, this kiss was full of a desire that had been denied for too long, on both their parts. If curiosity had fueled him the first time, a sense of deprivation seemed to be what spurred him now. He wasted no time; he plunged his hand further into her locks and gripped them near the base of her skull, tilting her head to allow himself access to her neck.

              He breathed in deep, nose pressed hard into her pulse point, and let out a contented sigh. “Much better,” the words slipped from his mouth on a whisper which she wouldn’t have caught had it not been for his proximity to her ear. She must have asked what he meant, for the next moment, he leaned in, and growled lowly against it, “no _wolf_.”

              Sesshoumaru stood then, hauling her up with him, and led her unceremoniously to the bedroom. Once she had passed through the doorway, her world shifted in the space of a breath. Sesshoumaru lifted her by the waist and tossed her bodily onto the mattress. Unlike the last time, where he had prowled around her, he accosted her immediately, tugging the capris from her legs, the shirt and bralette over her head, and tossing them negligently into the corner of the room.

              Unprepared for the ferocity of his movement, Kagome squealed as he descended on her once more, sealing her lips with a ravenous kiss. She melted for his ministrations – the way his hands roughly palmed her breasts, gripped her hips and pulled her into him. Her breath hitched as his hand introduced itself between his clothed crotch and her pussy, fingers wriggling and spreading the lubrication that had already begun to leak from her core.

              Now he grunted, and lowered himself to his knees before her, pulling her to the edge of the bed. This felt familiar, she thought, giddy, but her elation flitted away when she fixed on his eyes looking up at hers. His lips and tongue were working her over, but his eyes bored into hers, a smoldering intensity behind those golden irises, which were slowly… turning… blue? She blinked, and the whites of his eyes took on a reddish cast, startling a gasp from her.

              He pulled away from her core, licking his wickedly smiling lips, as though daring her – to speak? To question? But she could say nothing, as lost in sensation as she was, and after releasing a puff of laughter, he buried his face in her mound once more. Kagome fell backward onto the mattress, feeling the tightening coil within her as he ate her out. She felt the deep thrumming from within that signaled the beginning of an orgasm, and covered her mouth with her hands, smothering her voice in her throat.

              Sesshoumaru did not allow her to reach her peak, however. “Turn over,” he commanded, voice low, and gripped her hips to make it so. He flipped her onto her belly with little effort, then dove the fingers of his left hand deep within her, his right fumbling with his zipper, shoving down on his pants.

              “Condom?” she managed, while her brain still worked.

              “Unnecessary.” Still half-dressed, he leaned over her, insinuating his lips close to her ear. “Is rough acceptable?” He asked breathily, as though barely containing himself; Kagome felt him rubbing the head of his erection against her from behind.

               She laughed. Wasn’t it already a little rough? “Yeah,” she agreed, turning her head to try and see his expression.

              “If you burn me with your reiki again,” he murmured, still rubbing against her, “you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

              Again, Kagome laughed, even as she arched into him where he touched her so intimately. “Do I need a safe word?”

              “No. ‘Stop’ is enough,” he replied, then pulled back, pushing her hair off her back. He dotted each shoulder with a kiss, then grabbed her hips in a vice-like grip. Once more, Kagome arched her back, straining toward him, trying to reinitiate the contact he teased her with not moments before. “Be still,” he barked, and she felt one hand double down in its grip as the other moved away from her. She heard the sound of flesh on flesh, imagined him working himself behind her; she moaned, and stilled.

              He entered her with a single powerful thrust. Kagome grunted at the intrusion. She had forgotten just how imposing his phallus was; how he stretched her from within. Sesshoumaru ground his pelvis into hers, hands gripping the globes of her ass, and she heard him huff out another little laugh behind her. Peering over her shoulder, she tried to catch his expression. He smacked her bottom with an open palm, jolting her, and repeated, “be still.”

              Then, he began to move. Slowly. The friction from this angle was delicious. He nudged her knees together on the bed, adjusting his legs outside of hers. Kagome moaned. The pleasure, overwhelming. His hands kneaded her hips, gripping them tightly to pull them in when he thrust into her. The crude noise of flesh slapping flesh filled the room, punctuated by Kagome’s moaning and Sesshoumaru’s breath. He stilled her hips again and increased his pace.

              There! The head of his cock within her ground against her G spot, setting sparklers off behind her eyelids. Close, again. Kagome slid an arm down her body, reaching for her clit, rubbing on it furiously, matching the pace he set as he pummeled her from within. She felt her insides start to flutter around him, and his hands squeezed her hips reflexively, losing his rhythm. He groaned, and his voice broke the dam down for her. She came.

              Sesshoumaru slowed, as though relishing the spasms around him where he settled deep inside her. When she was a wrung out, panting mess below him, he picked his pace up again. His thrusts were forceful, jerking her body forward each time he bottomed out against her cervix. Kagome gritted her teeth, half in pleasure, half in discomfort, and renewed the movement of her fingers on her slick, sensitized nub. He noticed her actions this time and was apparently displeased by them; hauling her upright, he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and took over the work of her fingers.

              Kagome’s head lolled back onto his shoulder, giving him an excellent view of the elegant slope of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, her delicate clavicle, the curve of her breast. He couldn’t reach quite as deep, in this position, and it was both a disappointment and a relief. But he made up for it with his hands. The hand not engaged in tweaking her clit came up and pinched her nipple, his lips descended on her neck. It felt like an eternity since the last time she fell apart in his arms, and his tantalizing teasing pushed her to do so again. She felt the tingles start to travel to her hands, where they touched his forearms, and did her best to suppress them.

              His groan as he buried his face into her neck made her wonder if she was successful. He nuzzled in, the gesture endearing, but it was the press of his fingers and the deep, pulsing thrust of his cock that pushed her over the edge. This time, he came with her.

              They collapsed onto the bed together, him rolling off of her immediately, pulling her along to curl into his side. For the longest time, the room was quiet save for their breathing. Kagome, head nestled against his chest, eyes closed in relaxation, lost herself to the beautiful sensation of _happiness_ that filled her to the brim.

              “Kagome,” he murmured, and his usage of her given name startled her as much as the nuzzling against the crown of her head. She tilted her face up to look at him, and his eyes, back to normal now, peered down at her for a moment before fluttering closed. He leaned in and stole another kiss.

              Their lips parted and he rested his forehead against hers. His warm breath, puffing against her face, felt sweet and intimate. She fluttered her eyes open to see that his were closed, lines of tension around them. A little anxiety bubbled up within her. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask if he was well, but his lips descended on hers once more, urgently this time.

              He slid out from under her, lips still locked with hers, then propped himself up over her on his elbows. He pressed his lips, moist and warm to her cheek, then nudged her head to the side to latch on to her earlobe and then trail his way down her neck.

              “Again?” She asked, breathless, and could swear she heard him chuckle in reply.

              Mouth at her collarbone now, he nipped and suckled at her skin. She pushed on his shoulder a little, panting “no hickies.” He obeyed, releasing her, continuing the trail of kisses that meandered over her sternum. She ran her hands through his silken hair, marveling at the texture of the strands wrapped around her fingers.

              Sesshoumaru nipped at the underside of one of her breasts, and Kagome jumped beneath him. He peppered it with kisses in apology, and she laughed, breathless, as he continued his descent.

              When he reached her belly-button, he straightened, rising above her, hooking his arms under her legs. Swiftly, he raised them to his shoulders, then hoisted her closer, her bottom rising into the air. Her neck ended up craning a little once he had her situated, so ever attentive, he lowered his position a little to give her back some relief.

              He buried his nose into her mound, and Kagome squealed, mortified. She heard his deep inhalation, and covered her eyes with her hands, face flaming. His tongue, hot, wet, and agile, licked delicate traces around her labia, working its way slow toward her molten center. Tipping his head slightly, he flattened his tongue and passed it over her in one hard swipe, catching the mixture of their juices. His lack of perturbation calmed the squick she felt, until she was able to forget about it completely and focus only on the delicious sensations he wrought.

              Tongue thrusting deep within her, the tip of his nose bumped periodically into her throbbing clit, giving her an occasional jolt of extra pleasure that curled her toes. His hand, braced firmly on her thigh to lock it over his shoulder, snaked forward, and made the occasional jolt a consistent one as his tongue withdrew. Now he assaulted her clit in teasing circles, varying his pressure, and intermittently reached out with his tongue to lap at her folds and tease her entrance.

              She felt it coming and screwed her eyes shut. A low moan signaled the nearness of her orgasm; once it left her lips, Sesshoumaru withdrew both fingers and tongue, breathing gently over her mound. Kagome groaned, losing her grasp on the incoming wave, and glared up at him.

              He smirked and resumed his ministrations, circling, tapping, and tweaking her nub, then renewing the moisture with a lap of his broad tongue. Kagome pressed her lips together, fighting the voice bubbling up out of her throat when she felt the impending peak once more. Sesshoumaru withdrew again, chuckling, and Kagome grunted her frustration.

              Sesshoumaru edged her around her orgasm like this again, and again, until Kagome was nearly crying her frustration, begging for completion. When he finally succumbed to her pleas and granted her wish, Kagome came with a ferocity she had never felt before. The heat pooling between her legs could have burned her; and to her utter and complete shame, as she began to quiver in release, the dam burst, and a torrent of molten, sticky fluid erupted from her and all over Sesshoumaru’s chin.

              His tongue darted out and lapped it from his chin, and Kagome groaned her mortification, tossing her head to the side. Sesshoumaru’s dark chuckle as he lowered her bottom back to the mattress made her shiver. Kagome squeezed her legs together, still aching where he’d teased her. Gently but firmly, he pried her legs apart.

              Eyes opening wide, Kagome watched as he took his engorged cock in hand, running his hand over it from base to tip, slickening it with the cum he’d wiped off his chin. His expression was one of concentration, brows furrowed, as he inched forward, brining himself closer and closer to her core. He teased them both now, rubbing the head of his cock over her mons, pressing it against her clit, playing outside her quivering cunt. Unable to take any more, Kagome planted her feet and raised her hips into him, nudging the head of his cock inside of her.

              He growled and sank the rest of the way in, setting a quick pace from the start. Again he gripped her hips, holding her up and taking some of the strain off her knees, assisting as she thrust back into him. His sac slapped against her bottom each time he ground into her. She watched his face, the fixation of his eyes where their bodies joined, the sheen of sweat that had formed on his skin. She closed her eyes and drowned in sensation.

              He stopped moving the moment she came again, riveting his eyes on her expression, pushing further into her until she squeezed around him to the root. He groaned, and leaned over, propping himself above her again, and buried his head into her shoulder.

              The pistoning of his hips resumed, and Kagome raised her hips with each thrust, though her core ached, urging him to completion. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, sighing her pleasure, running her hands and scraping her nails down his back. She grasped at his buttocks, pulling his hips into hers, a renewed urgency growing inside of her.

              Just as his movements became jerky, missing a beat in his advances, she hit her peak, wailing as she came. He rose up and pulled out of her, wrapping his hand around his pulsing cock, and pumping his cum over her mons. He rubbed the head of his penis into the pool of his creamy white cum as it dripped over her labia, shivering a little, rubbing it into her skin.

              He shook his head, as if coming out of a daze and lowered himself beside her, facing her. He pulled her to him, curling his body around her own. She felt his hand bumping her bottom as he rubbed his flagging erection to standing once more. Kagome peered over her shoulder at him, trying to gauge if he was going to go for another round, but his forehead was pressed into her shoulder, and she could not see his face. His body occasionally spasmed as though shivering, and she felt the last spurt of hot cum splatter against her ass.

              Sesshoumaru rubbed the head of his cock into it once more, then changed his angle and slowly pressed forward, filling Kagome with his still-turgid member. Kagome held her breath, then released it on a sigh. He ground into her, once, twice, and then stilled. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her snugly against his chest, and their bodies and breath finally calmed.

             

 

               Kagome put her hand on Sesshoumaru’s forearm, where it crossed over her heart, as they lay spooning together. His breathing behind her was even, but she doubted that he slept. She was comfortable, and cozy in his arms. But somehow, although she relished this closeness, and wanted more than anything to close her eyes and lose herself to the warmth of his body behind hers, something was niggling at her.

              She was happy, but she was doubtful. It felt too good to be true.

              “Sesshoumaru…?” She murmured into the darkness of the room. A ‘hn’ in response. “There is some… there are a few things that I need to ask you.”

              “Now?” he asked, and she could imagine the ticking of his brow.

              She propped herself up on her elbow so she could turn to face him. “It’s important.”

              He sighed and nodded slightly. “Coffee?”

              “Yes, please,” she responded, and the two slid out of bed to dress and adjourn to the kitchen. Kagome was silent, attempting to organize her thoughts, while Sesshoumaru moved gracefully and efficiently through the kitchen, putting a pot on to boil. As the smell of coffee filtered through her senses, Kagome decided on her approach. When he set a mug down in front of her, she was ready.

              Sesshoumaru’s eyes were on hers, his expression expectant, but he did not prompt her.

              “I gather that since you returned this to me,” she said, twirling her pink pendant, “that Bokusenou concluded there was nothing dangerous about it.”

              “Correct.” He hadn’t thought she would open with _that_ – the surprise was clear in his tone.

              “He would know, having seen it in its heyday?” Kagome suggested, peering up at him just in time to catch the infinitesimal twitch of his eyebrow. “Kouga-kun told me about how things went down, more or less, with the Miko Rin’s quest to find the shards.”

              His lips thinned for a moment before he brought his mug to them, taking a slow sip of the still steaming brew. “That is a name I had not thought of in centuries.” His voice was curiously devoid of inflection, and sensing there was more for him to say, Kagome barely breathed, hoping he would tell the story without her encouragement.

              He liked to frustrate those types of expectations though, it seemed, so when he said nothing more, Kagome set her mug on the counter and laced her fingers around it. “Can you tell me about it?”

              He shrugged. “She was still young when she shattered the Jewel. Incompetent, but full of that self-righteousness so common in Miko. She came to me seeking audience with Bokusenou. He is a fount of near limitless wisdom, and his roots extend throughout Honshuu [1]. With her limited powers she could not detect them unless they were within a mile’s distance, at the time.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop, a movement that was surprisingly fidgety for the always-composed youkai. “I had no further dealings with them,” he paused, and Kagome reflected that he had not mentioned Inuyasha once, “until their conflict with Naraku became a significant enough nuisance to destabilize the region.”

              Kagome absorbed his tale. “Why did Naraku want the Jewel? He must have seen that it was no longer… alive?” she struggled for the right word.

              “That half-breed _cur_ was blinded by his aspirations and immune to logic,” he spat.

              “Aspirations?”

              “What any half-breed would want. To become fully youkai.” Again, his voice dripped in disgust, and Kagome felt her heart sink at the vehemence of his spite – was this how he viewed his brother? His _hanyou_ brother? She had been right – there must be a mountain of baggage there.

              She shook the thought away. “What happened after Rin completed the Jewel?”

              “Little,” he snorted. “Though her spiritual powers were indeed much stronger than those of her contemporaries, and they _were_ able to put some polish on the Shikon shards during the quest, they were insufficient to do much for the Jewel in its entirety. Once completed, it resumed its inert state, much to In—to general disappointment.”

              “Did he have a personal investment in it?” Kagome asked, neither regretting her reference to Sesshoumaru’s half-brother, nor missing the sharp look her gave her in response.

              “Legend _did_ say the Shikon no Tama would grant a wish,” was his oblique reply.

              “What happened after?”

              He shrugged. “Rin was his pet project, not mine. I saw no need to pursue the acquaintance.”

              Kagome sat back in her chair. She turned over what he said, then filed it away for later. While interesting, it was off-topic. “So Bokusenou knew the Jewel from back then – or from even before?” He inclined his head and Kagome took that as confirmation. “And when he saw it this time, what exactly did he have to say?”

              Sesshoumaru leaned across the counter, reaching out. He touched his fingertip to the glossy pink surface of the jewel around her neck, a contemplative crinkle around his eyes. He glanced up at her, and the way his golden eyes shone between those fine silver lashes made her heart stutter in her chest. “That he had not heard of any resurrected rumors about it.” He pulled back, picked up his mug.

              Somehow, she felt he was holding something back. “What else?”

              “Your reiki is not sufficient to breathe life back into the Jewel,” he murmured. “So long as you remain as you are, there is no danger to you.” But there _was_ danger to her. From Kagura, and Naraku. He seemed to know about the latter at least, and his lips had a firm downturn to them as he corrected himself. “No additional danger.”

              Kagome nodded. “I’m not convinced the Shikon no Tama is all he wants,” she admitted, voice strained. “I was under the impression that youkai don’t get into casual affairs with humans.”

              “As a rule, we do not,” he said. “The wolf is a rare exception. And Naraku – an aberration.”

              “And this?” She said, gesturing between them.

              He straightened, no longer leaning on the kitchen counter. A hand settled on the granite, fingers relaxed, as though to demonstrate how little the question perturbed him. He had likely been expecting the conversation to turn this direction at some point, regardless of how she opened the dialogue. “I do not and have never involved myself with humans, in _any_ way, outside of my work.”

              She steeled her heart and relaxed her face, doing her best to affect unconcern. “So this…”

              “Is as I said – a proximity infatuation, borne of curiosity and willfulness.” He put his hand over the wrist of her right hand, which had a death grip on the handle of her coffee mug, in a conciliatory gesture. “In giving in to my curiosity I am aware I may have caused you pain. Even this evening – I find I am unable to resist the temptation when you are near. But the fact remains I _should_ have resisted.” He pulled away, righting himself. On a sigh, “I owe you an apology for that.”

              _But_ , she thought in sudden desperation, _you’re not apologizing_. “Okay,” she said at length. “Where do we go from here, then? You’re not going to ghost on me?”

              “I am fond of your company, in my way,” he replied, but the effort of this admission seemed to pain him. “However, in the interest of not repeating past mistakes, perhaps we should limit our interactions to the academic.” He paused, as though thinking. “And to the digital.”

              _Past mistakes._

              “I’ll text you, then.” She gave him a brittle smile.

              “Please do,” he replied, politely. He peered over the lip of her mug, and seeing it mostly empty, offered, “More coffee?”

              She glanced at her watch. “No, thank you,” Kagome said, sliding off the stool. “It’s already quite late. I should get going.”

              “Of course,” was his benign response.

              Conscious of his eyes on her, she bowed her head to excuse herself, as though about to leave his campus office, and directed herself to the genkan. He followed leisurely behind, pose relaxed as he leaned against the wall, watching her slip on her shoes and shoulder her bag.

              Once she had situated herself and taken a breath to steel her heart once more, she turned to face him. She took in the way the soft lamplight seemed to glow around him, the shadows it cast over the strong muscles in his neck, the line of his collarbone as it disappeared behind the parted collar of his button-down shirt. She trailed her eyes up to his, topaz and beautiful, as though illuminated from behind, and offered him one last, wobbly smile. “Good night.”

              “Be safe,” he replied.

              She let herself out.                       

-+-

 

              Kagome slept through her alarm the next morning. She woke to the shrill ringing of her phone beside her head and jetted out of bed as though a rocket had gone off. It was her mother. Shit. _Shit_! She answered the phone while scrambling out of her pajamas. “I’ll be down in a minute, mom!”

              “Hold your horses. I’ll be there in ten. Are you okay?”

              Kagome slowed her pace. At least she would have time to brush her teeth before leaving the house. “I’m fine. Thank you for calling. I overslept. Gotta go freshen up, I’ll be down in ten.” She hung up unceremoniously and dashed into the bathroom to wash her face and clean up a little.

              She was still panting when she buckled the seatbelt across her in her mother’s car.

              “You didn’t need to rush like that,” her mom said, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. “We have plenty of time.”

              Kagome shook her head. “It’s fine,” she sighed, and leaned her head against the window. The drive to the wound-care specialist was a good half-hour long if they missed the traffic. This would be the last follow-up visit, but she had none of the enthusiasm in her that she’d had when she booked it.

              At least she knew now, she mused. At least there were no questions left. Sesshoumaru had told her in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of pursuing a relationship with her. That he had never had any intentions of doing so. There was no longer room for interpretation, no longer room for hope. It was well and truly over between them.

              Except…

              She texted him quickly. _Just realized we forgot to about the recommendation letter._

              Again, a near-instant reply. _What is your mailing address?_

              She keyed in her address in response. A minute passed with no reply.

              Okay. _Now_ it was well and truly over between them.

              Her mind was blank for the duration of the car ride.

              Dr. Satou’s clinic was situated on the fifth story of a small office building in a bustling commercial neighborhood. The inside of the clinic was homey, with plush couches in the waiting room and a receptionist that looked like she could be anybody’s grandma. She greeted them warmly upon their arrival, inviting them to make themselves comfortable.

              Several minutes passed, while the receptionist shuffled around behind the desk. “Dr. Satou is on time so far this morning,” she announced, handing the Higurashi women each a cup of coffee. “Thank you for arriving a little early. It shouldn’t be long now.”

              “Of course,” said Kagome’s mother, placidly taking a sip of the hot brew. After a moment of silence between them, she turned to her daughter. “This is the last appointment. Are you alright?”

              Kagome smiled up at her. “Yeah. It’s been a long road but I’m glad it’s finally over.”

              “Over,” she scoffed, shaking her head at her daughter. “I still don’t understand how the police haven’t caught up with that woman.”

              “Miss Higurashi, are you ready? You can head back now.”

              Kagome stood, throwing her mother a comforting smile, and followed the receptionist back into the exam room. Dr. Satou’s nurse, a shy young man by the name of Jinenji, took her vitals and instructed her to make herself comfortable on the exam table. Used to the procedure, Kagome laid back and looked up at the white-painted ceiling above. Jinenji was gone for barely a breath before Dr. Satou bustled in, her long black hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, making her friendly face appear severe. “Good morning, Higurashi-san,” she greeted, eyes fixed on the paper chart in her hands.

              “Good morning.”

              A moment more, as Dr. Satou read through her papers, before she shifted her entire focus onto Kagome. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

              Kagome breathed out and relaxed under Dr. Satou’s practiced hand. The doctor raised Kagome’s shirt just enough to examine the faint traces of the wound and the skin around it. She remarked on its color, palpated the skin of the abdomen around it, and took a photograph for her chart. Kagome sat up, waiting for the verdict.

              “You’re a remarkable young lady,” Dr. Satou said. “You have taken excellent care of it, and it has healed so nicely and so quickly that you’ve almost put me out of a job.” She chuckled for a moment, then waved her hand as though in apology over the joke. “There are various over-the-counter remedies you can use, but something with plenty of Vitamin E will help with the scarring.”

              “It still hurts sometimes,” Kagome said, hand coming up to hover over it.

              “The wound itself is fine, my dear,” Dr. Satou said kindly. “But perhaps there are other wounds that need longer to heal, and more care in tending. What you went through was surely a terrifying experience. I can only imagine. Have you seen anyone for counselling?”

              Kagome shook her head. “Just the Social Worker in the hospital.”

              “Do consider following up with someone about it, dear,” she said, turning her gaze to the paper chart once more. “I’ll write a referral for you, just in case.” Silence followed as Dr. Satou jotted herself a note on the blank post-it note that was affixed to the cover of the brown folder in her hands. Eventually she stopped scribbling and looked up at her patient once more. “That’s all. We’re done. No more participation restrictions; feel free to go weight-lifting and running marathons all you like now,” she chuckled. “You have the office number in case something comes up, of course, but is there anything I can answer for you now?”

              “No, thank you,” Kagome said, and followed the doctor’s lead in exiting the exam room. Her mother had already settled affairs with the receptionist, and the two of them left the clinic no more than twenty minutes after their arrival. “That was quick,” Kagome mumbled as they piled back into the car.

              “Because all is well. And thank goodness for it,” her mother breathed, pulling out of the parking spot. “You have class still, this afternoon?”

              “Mmhmm.” 

              The rest of the drive was uneventful; the rumbling of the car engine and the soothing voice of a radio newscaster broke the monotony, but Kagome tuned it all out. When she unlatched her front door and let herself inside, she was expecting to spend the rest of the morning in a similar, peaceful fashion, but that was not to be.

              “Kagome!” Came Sango’s voice, sounding both eager and strained, from the living room. Kagome followed the sound of the greeting and encountered a most curious sight: there was a “Congratulations!” banner hung from the ceiling, multicolored streamers draped over the furniture, and Sango and Miroku were sitting on the couch wearing party hats. Kazoos strung around their necks, as though forgotten. They did not look in the _least_ excited. Sango’s face was drawn with worry, and she kept wringing her hands in her lap, glancing nervously at the man sitting in the chair next to her.

              A policeman.

              She vaguely recognized his face, but couldn’t remember his name.

              “Higurashi-san,” he said, standing, and bowed his head in greeting. “Congratulations on your recovery,” he said, gesturing awkwardly at the party paraphernalia decorating the room.

              “Congratulations,” echoed Miroku weakly, and Sango did the same a beat later.

              “Thank you, Officer…?”

              “Nakajima,” he supplied, and moved toward the hallway. “If I may have a moment of your time, a word in private?”

              “Of course,” Kagome said, and was at a loss as to whether she should ask him to come to her room.

              “Miroku and I will be in my room, Kagome,” Sango offered, jumping to her feet. “Come get us if you need anything, okay?” She shot a meaningful look at her boyfriend, and he scurried after down the hallway. Sango’s bedroom door closed loudly behind them.

              “Please, have a seat,” Kagome said, rounding to the other side of the couch and sitting opposite him. “Can I offer you some water, or tea?”

              “No, thank you.” He settled himself back down in the chair he had been occupying, then bent over to reach for the bag at his feet, raising it into his lap. _Ah_. His left sock had a hole in the toe. Kagome stifled her smile and waited patiently for him to speak. “I have some news for you.”

              “Good or bad?” She asked, feeling her chest tighten.

              “Depends how you look at it, I guess,” sighed Officer Nakajima. His dark brown eyes regarded her for a moment. “We have found your assailant, I believe. I have a photograph here; could you verify if this is or is not the woman who attacked you?”

              Kagome nodded, reaching out to accept the 8- by 11-inch printed photograph, but the Officer seemed to hesitate in handing it over. “What’s the matter?”

              “I must warn you,” he said, relinquishing it into her hands. “It’s a little graphic.”

              Graphic? Kagome brought the photograph into her lap, covering it with her hands and refusing to look down. “What do you mean?”

              “We received a call last night from a resident of one of the apartment complexes near 13-Chome. He was walking by the riverside when he saw a body washed ashore,” the Officer explained, energy seeming to drain out of him.

              “A body…?” Kagome felt her world fade into shades of grey. She uncovered the photograph in her hands and felt the blood in her veins run cold. Before her was the face of Kagura – or what had once _been_ Kagura – bloated, black-and blue, with a part of her skull apparently crushed in. She gasped and covered the image with her hands once more, as though trying to erase it from her memory, before looking in panic up at the officer.

              “Is that the woman who attacked you?” He asked, voice gentle, coaxing and kind, as though apologizing for the nightmarish image he had forced her to look at.

              “Yes,” she croaked, handing the picture back to him with shaking fingers. “What _happened_ to her?”

              “The medical examiner reports that cause of death was –” he paused to refer to a small, yellow-papered notepad that he had pulled from his jacket pocket, “ _Traumatic Cardiectomy in vivo_ , which means that someone forcibly removed her heart from her chest.” He looked up at her, assessing, and she schooled her features as best she could, to encourage him to keep talking. “The injury to her skull appears to have been incurred post-mortem.”

              Kagome collapsed backwards on an outbreath, leaning heavily into the couch cushions. _What?_ She blinked once, then again, harder, trying to focus on the man in front of her. “How on earth…?”

              He shot her a half-hearted smile and tucked the photograph back into his bag. “Her relative came into the morgue this morning to identify her body. It doesn’t feel quite like justice this way, but at least you know you are safe from her.”

              Her lips thinned. “It’s nothing at _all_ like justice,” she said. “I hope you catch whoever did this to her.”

              Maybe that wasn’t the response that Officer Nakajima was expecting. He tilted his head and peered at her for a moment. “In any event, we are closing your case file,” he said finally. “I hope _you_ can find some closure.”

              He stood, and Kagome followed him to the entryway, where his holey-toed socks slipped into his shoes. His farewell was formal, with a low bow which Kagome fervently returned, and then a tipping of his hat after her replaced it on his head. He handed her a business card, which she felt was a little odd, and then excused himself, shutting the front door quietly behind himself.

              Pastries. She would send them pastries as a thank you.

              Down the hall, Sango’s bedroom door clicked open. “Kagome?”

              “He’s gone now,” she called back, making her way back to the living room on wobbly legs. Sango and Miroku ducked out of their hiding place and followed her cautiously back to the couch, concern etched on their faces. They didn’t need to ask for an explanation; Kagome needed to let it all out. “They found Kagura. Dead.”

              Two pairs of eyes widened. Sango gasped, Miroku repeated, “Dead?”

              “Someone beat her up, ripped out her heart, and then smashed her head in before dumping her in the river.”

              “…What? That’s… that’s crazy!” Sango cried, clutching at Miroku’s hand in her lap.

              Kagome looked up at Miroku, giving him _the look_ in question. “The medical examiner must be a—”

              “Man with guts of steel,” Miroku rushed, cutting her off. He nodded slightly in response to the question she had been trying to ask. It made sense, for a youkai to be a medical examiner; far easier to tie up loose ends and hide what needs to be hidden that way. “Are you okay?” He asked, gently now.

              She slid down, slouching into the cushions, and held her breath for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

              “I can’t believe this,” Sango muttered, shaking her head, incredulity still clear in her wide eyes. “No matter how horrible her attack on you was… what kind of monster would _do_ that to someone?”

              “I’m with you,” Kagome said. “Officer Nakajima seemed to hope it would cheer me to know she was out… of the picture,” she croaked, tears springing to her eyes. “But how could I be relieved when _this_ is the price she paid? And that the person who did it is… still out there?”

              Sango reached forward and wrapped her arms around her friend. Miroku followed, holding the two women close, murmuring in soothing tones in their ears. They remained huddled like this for a long time, until Kagome’s tears dried, and she pulled away, a watery laugh on her lips. “You’re still wearing party hats,” she said, reaching out and flipping the silly, brightly colored paper cone on Miroku’s head.

              “Not much of a party, huh?” he chuckled, looking around the living room. “But congratulations on your recovery.”

              “Thanks,” she said, and a heavy stillness fell around them.

              “Maybe we should clean this up,” Sango suggested, coming to her feet.

              “I’ll help,” said Kagome, pulling a streamer off the back of the couch.

              Once the room was back in order, Kagome excused herself to her bedroom, where she cried a little more, until she fell asleep. Her nap lasted an hour before her alarm blared, and she struggled out of bed to get ready for class.

              Officially, her day ended at five thirty. She deliberated for a long while whether she should remain on campus or go home. The idea of spending time in the library brought her comfort. She had a paper for Naraku-sensei’s class she needed to revise one last time; she could print it and stop to turn it in on her way back home. On the other hand, the possibility of meeting him alone loomed over her, and she was in no emotional condition to do so. By the time she realized what she was doing, she found herself standing in front of the library, her feet taking the path there out of habit.

              She followed the original plan, with the exception of stopping at the faculty building. She would turn the paper in Friday morning, she decided, exactly on time. Though she preferred to be early for big deadlines, she felt no guilt in pushing this one right to last minute. This was an act of self-care, she decided, and thought no more of it as she made her way home.

                That evening, she sat at her desk, playing through the recordings of her class lectures and supplementing her notes. She was no longer on pain medications, but the Accessibility Office had given her permission for use of the recorder through the end of October, a month away still. Though her attention had recovered once the medication was ceased, she enjoyed the ability to replay and really think through the lectures the second time around, and so continued to exploit the little device. Her sense of time deserted her when she immersed herself in her work this way, and she only realized how late it had gotten when her phone chimed with a text alert.

              “Already eleven,” she yawned, noting the time on the screen. She unlocked the phone and tapped open the notification, surprised to see the name at the top of the screen.

              Kouga hadn’t reached out to her since her hospital stay, after all.

              _‘Grats on your last appointment today. Miroku told me what happened. Keep it together. I’m making some inquiries on my end_.

               This crash-landing back into reality robbed Kagome of an hour of sleep, during which she tossed and turned fitfully, mind running rampant in every direction. Eventually, however, emotional exhaustion won out, and this nightmarish day came to a close.

 

 

              Kagome counted her blessings when no light shown out from under Naraku-sensei’s door the next morning. She tucked her paper, in its manila folder marked only by her student ID number, into the drop-box at his door with a sense of relief. She glanced down the hallway toward Aotsuki-sensei’s office and was surprised to see that his light was on, despite the early hour. She took several steps in his direction, but stopped herself halfway. He would know she was there, whether she stopped at his door or not. And he didn’t want anything to do with her.

              So, she made good on her escape, and high-tailed it toward the Human Sciences building for her eight o’clock class. Much like last semester, Naraku-sensei’s class didn’t start until half past noon, and it lasted an excruciating two-and-a-half hours. She had busted her ass to make an A in his class last term, but it had been a near thing. When the new semester rolled over at the start of the month, she resolved to raise the bar of her performance again, so she would not have to squeak through how she had before. Granted, the added bonus of having the recorder during class was helping, but she knew she couldn’t rely on it much longer.

              During her lunch break, as Kagome scrolled through her social media feeds, a photograph Ichirou posted caught her eye. The picture was cute—it was him and Yura, standing in front of a golden bell marking the top of a mountain trail, looking sweaty but accomplished. There was a sign in the background, posted on a tree trunk: “Beware of Bears”. _What would he make of all this_ , she wondered, remembering how he had been there for her the first time Kagura had come.

              She liked the picture, and then, impulsively, opened her text messages and sent one off. Hopefully they could catch up soon. Now that she thought of it, she was sure he could answer a lot of her questions about her most recent discoveries about the Jewel, or at least point her in the right direction. The thought stayed in the front of her mind as she finished her meal, as she made her way to her next lecture, and she set herself up for class. She barely noticed that Naraku had made his grand entrance, so lost in thought was she, but the second she registered the roiling feeling of anxiety that Naraku projected toward her, she snapped to attention, turned on her recorder, and poised herself to start taking notes.

              As usual, his delivery left a lot to be desired. She loved history, but out of this man’s mouth, the joy drained away and it felt like _torture_. His red eyes would flash periodically in the light, glinting when he looked in her direction. Sometimes he would chuckle at his own jokes. Rarely, he would ask a question. She doubted he had any interest in the students’ comprehension, opinions, or engagement. This lecture was a stage for him to perform, and nothing more. Not noticing her mind had wandered, Kagome peered at the man behind the podium. He was a hanyou, she thought to herself. Aside from his utter awfulness, how different was he really, compared to the youkai she knew?

              Squinting a little, Kagome tried to see the youki she felt around her. Not green, she marveled. This youki was a hazy purple. Unlike Aotsuki-sensei’s, which undulated in waves, natural and smooth, this youki moved jaggedly, erratically, like a rat skittering through a maze.

              “Higurashi-kun.”

              Startled, Kagome blinked up at the man in front of her. Oh no. She shot to her feet. She had spaced out. Class had ended – when? – the classroom was nearly empty now, and Naraku-sensei was poised in front of her, an amused gleam in his eyes. “I am so sorry,” she mumbled, shoving her books into her bag, then placing her borrowed electronics on top. “I’m not quite back to myself yet,” she fibbed, by way of excuse.

              “Never mind that,” he said, “please stay back a minute. I have something to discuss with you.” He sauntered away, back toward the podium. She sat, fidgeting at her desk, watching as he put away his materials, a self-satisfied smile on his thin, pale lips. Once the last of the remaining students had vacated the room, he shouldered his bag and made his way up the steps toward her, stopping at the row just before hers, content to sit on the desk there, even though it meant looking up at her.

              “What did you have to discuss?” She asked, trying in vain to keep the edginess from her voice. This needed to go smoothly. It needed to go well. She couldn’t handle anything more on top of all the bullshit of the last forty-eight hours.

              “Two matters of business come to mind,” he crossed an ankle over his knee, and leaned back on the hands planted on the desk behind him. It was a leisurely posture. She didn’t trust it for a second. “Though perhaps the first might count as two as well. I wanted to follow up regarding our recent conversation. I do hope you are feeling better?”

              “Yes, thank you,” she replied automatically, the words like sand in her mouth.

              “Good, good. We discussed two matters, at the time, if you recall. I wanted to assure you, if you were not already aware, that I fulfilled my promise to you and spoke to the police about my— about Kagura.” Kagome felt sick, but opened her mouth to thank him, as she knew she was supposed to. He forged on before she spoke, however, sparing her the farce. “The other matter we discussed was your academics. Your performance last semester was acceptable, despite how things began. I would like to see you continue to exert an effort this semester; but I expect that you can do far better. With that in mind, I’ve had an idea.”

              _Please_ , she begged mentally, _please do not let this escalate._ “Oh?”

              “I have a special project in mind for you. In actuality it was the project I had hoped for your assistance with, during the summer vacation, before you became… _otherwise_ _employed_. I think it would be an excellent supplement to your curriculum this semester.” There was something so smug in the way he was speaking to her, like a cat eyeing a mouse it had cornered.

              Indeed, she was feeling cornered, but she fought the rising panic, some of which she knew to be exogenous, resulting from his youki. She managed to produce a benign reply. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’ll need some time to consider the offer, however,” she fixed her gaze on his ear, to avoid looking at those flat, red eyes. “Like I said before, I’m not quite back to myself. I don’t want to load myself with more than I can handle and underperform.” It was a perfectly plausible excuse.

              Which he ignored. “I shall expect you in my office and ready to start on Monday at eleven; your morning class ends right around then, I understand. Please bring along a fresh notebook, and do not be late.”

              Incredulous, Kagome lost her tightly held control and raised her voice just a bit, sputtering, “I just said—”

              “Of _course_ ,” he cut her off, “and do take all the time you need to consider.” He waved his hand dismissively and came to his feet. “I have a feeling the last order of business will make it far easier to come to a decision, though.”

              “Which is what?” She snapped, gripping her hands tightly around the strap of her bag.

              He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he moved back into the aisle on his way toward the classroom door. “Merely a sentiment I wanted to share. You should have received an official visit yesterday, or perhaps this morning?”

              Kagome stilled immediately, thinking of Officer Nakajima, the hole in his sock, the photograph in his bag.

              Two steps above her now, he looked down at her, a wide sneer spreading over his vicious lips. “I _do_ hope you liked my _present_.”

              The sound of the classroom door shutting behind him made Kagome jump out of her skin, in near hysterics.

              His present?

              _His **present**!? _

Panic crawled over her skin and drew a shuddering breath into her lungs. She bolted down the stairs to the classroom’s back entrance. Vaguely, she relived the echo of his laughter as he left her behind in the classroom, the mocking lilt his voice carried as he called “See you Monday” over his shoulder. On trembling, ice-cold legs, she ran from the building, coming to a panting stop at the intersection. The prolonged inactivity after her injury had sapped her strength; hands resting on her knees, she heaved breaths, hoping wildly to suppress the sensation of bile rising in her throat.

              The crosswalk music began to play, and she raised her head, in time to meet Aotsuki-sensei’s gaze from where he stood, kitty-corner from her. His expression bland, he inclined his head in a polite greeting, before turning to look ahead of him as he crossed in the intersection.

              It was enough. It was enough.

              With only desperation fueling her, Kagome ran the rest of the way home, barely reaching the bathroom before she lost her lunch.  

 

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: TWENTY TWO PAGES. *sips lemonade* I hope that made up for his conspicuous absence recently. There’s a lot that’s not ideal in their dynamic, but I’m hoping I got the affirmative consent bit going in his favor.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about police procedure in attempted murder investigations in any country, including Japan.
> 
> So at around this time last year (!!!Time flies!!!) I got married and made a cross-country move. It’s funny how things go, but, once again, the man and I will be picking up and moving a few time zones away. Probably in early July. Geeeh.
> 
> This story is now four chapters away from completion. We’re getting closer and closer to the end, so chapters keep getting longer… and longer… and it’s taking a little longer to write them. I’m aiming to release a new chapter every other Friday or Saturday until the end, so it should all be up around Mid-May. Obviously if I pound one out extra quickly, I’ll post it early; just don’t get your hopes up for that happening too often.
> 
> You have no idea how I love your comments and support! From rallying me before the (first) move, to encouragement during my depression, to advice about my summary, to excitement about each update... We authors take a great deal of time and care putting our work together to share. Nothing cheers me more than knowing there is a community of supportive, awesome Inuyasha-fans out there to share it with, old fandom (legasp!) or not.  
> 
> Expect Chapter 15 on 4/6 or 7!
> 
> **  
> Footnotes…
> 
> [1] Honshuu: The main island of Japan


	15. 願事  Your Wish: There will be many hardships. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for the (comparative) brevity despite the delay! Had some writer’s block which delayed the update and made this chapter much, much shorter. Ended up restructuring a bit and pushing a lot into the next chapter to give myself a break, so that should make up for it.
> 
> TW for Naraku doing some creepy shit slash psychological wretchedness slash assault?

 

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Fifteen

_願事  Your Wish: There will be many hardships. Part I_

 

              She wiped her chin clean, swished some mouthwash, and collapsed onto her bed, where she remained deeply asleep for the next four hours. When she awoke, it was with no improvement to her mood or outlook. After all, nothing had changed; Naraku had still killed Kagura, or maybe _had_ her killed, and threatened her into meeting with him in private. In two days. 

              She spent the remainder of the evening so anxious she was effectively paralyzed, unable to get a single thing done except warm up a cup ramen and eat a little less than half. She fell into a dreamless sleep again without effort, but when she woke the next morning, it was as though she had not slept at all.

              As Kagome ate her breakfast, her phone chimed in with a text message from her mother. _I’m bringing the bin with your winter clothes this afternoon. Do you have your spring clothes set aside?_ Kagome’s response was a single word in the affirmative. The chime of her phone, however, had jostled her out of her near-catatonic state. She set aside her empty bowl of cereal, then slapped her hands to her cheeks twice.

              “Wake up,” she commanded herself. “Wake up.”

              She showered and made her bed, then settled down to do her homework. By mid-afternoon, she had finished it, and, still determinedly ignoring the cloud over her head, decided to start supplementing her lecture notes from her recordings. She pulled the small device from her bag, then set it on her desk and pressed play, but the screen stayed blank. “Out of battery?” she dug through her drawer for the charger cable and plugged it in. The screen lit up immediately. Shrugging, she had just started copying the recordings from the device to her computer, when her mother arrived bearing the large plastic bin that housed Kagome’s off-season clothes.

              “You might want to wash them before you put them away,” her mother intoned, setting the tub on top of Kagome’s bed.

              “Thanks, mama.” She lifted the lid and pulled a hideous pink floral sweater out. Had she thought this was cute last year? “Ugh.” The two of them together began sorting through the clothes in the bin, one item at a time, dividing them into two discrete piles by category: keep and discard.

              Kagome’s mother lifted a heavy, navy blue coat out of the bottom of the bin. She checked the pockets, zipped the zippers, and folded it back up again. “There’s a hole in one of the pockets,” she murmured. “Want me to take it home and fix it? Or should we replace it?”

              Kagome looked at the coat for a moment, considering. “Leave it here. I’ll fix it,” she said at last. “Need something to keep my hands busy,” she muttered. The repair would take less than five minutes, but it was five minutes she could escape from her current reality.

              “Alright. Let me put away your spring clothes. Do you have a bag for the donations?”

              Dutifully, Kagome fetched a trash bag from the kitchen, carefully filling it with the clothing she had decided to give away. Her mother left not long after, and once Kagome had put away the winter clothes, she found herself with nothing that she wanted to do.

              Well. There was one thing she _needed_ to do. She hesitated for a moment, then sighed deeply and pulled out her phone. She didn’t want to worry him, but between Sango and Ichiro, Ichiro was definitely the right person to tell about what had happened with Naraku. Sango didn’t _know_. Her lawyerly instincts would rise to the surface, no doubt, and Kagome wasn’t sure she could deal with her friend’s passionate sense of justice right now. She needed comfort and calm. _Ichiro it is._

              He answered the phone after one ring. “I was wondering when I was gonna hear from you.”

              Kagome laughed, realizing how much had happened since the last time she talked to him. “I _did_ text you, remember?” He laughed, apparently no remorse for forgetting to text her back. A short silence broke between them then, during which Kagome recruited all the strength she had within her. “Listen… I… I need your help.”

              He must have heard the crack in her voice, the desperation in her tone, because his response was measured, soft, and everything she needed just then. “Tell me what you need.”

              So she told him everything, from the very beginning. How Naraku had started with advances on her and his academic threats; then how Kagura had, on his orders, attempted to steal the Shikon no Tama from her through force, resulting both in her arm injury as well as her stab wound later on. How Naraku had visited her in the hospital. The promises he had made. And finally, his invitation, and his _gift_.

              Ichiro was mostly silent for the entire story. When she was overcome with emotion, he tutted nonsensical, soothing nothings at her until she calmed enough to continue. When she finally quieted, having said everything there was to say, he was silent still.

              “What do I do?” Kagome asked, voice small, weak.

              He sighed. “I wish I was there,” he muttered, and was quiet for a moment more. “You should go to your meeting. But you must _absolutely_ _not_ go alone.”

              Kagome shuddered. “But—”

              “Do you know any youkai there, that you can trust?”

              Kagome flopped backwards onto her mattress, one hand shielding her eyes. There were two that sprang to mind, but neither was a good choice. Aotsuki-sensei, though he had broken her heart, was dependable, and she was sure she could trust him if it came down to it; but she was sure that nothing short of a life-or-death scenario would count as ‘coming down to it’ just at this moment. Then again, her other option wasn’t much better. “I do, but…” And so it was that she confessed to him about Kouga, and his unrequited love, and the awkwardness that was between them despite his most recent reaching out.

              To his credit, Ichiro kept his comments to the issue at hand. “Your safety is the most important thing right now, Kagome-chan.” His voice was firm, brooked no argument. “From what you’ve said, he’s already involved in this situation, what with looking into Kagura’s murder,” he said, referring to the text Kouga had sent her. “Ask him, as a friend, to be in the room with you.”

              “…Okay.”

              “When you see Naraku, decline his offer _in no uncertain terms_. Be explicitly clear.”

              Kagome held her breath, trying to stop the welling up of fear within her.

              “Under _no circumstances_ are you to be alone with him. Have someone escort you to and from class. If you can’t find someone, you _will not attend lecture_. Understood?”

              She nodded, then remembered she was on the phone, and uttered a meek “yes” in response.

              “It’s still early in the semester. You could withdraw from his course. Ask for a change in academic supervisor. Your department head—you said he was youkai too? Tell him what’s been happening.”

              Kagome bristled. There was _no way_ she would allow an incomplete course to blemish her academic record. But before she could argue, Ichiro pressed on.

              “I’ll make some calls. I know some people. Yura has some strings she can pull, too.” She heard him make an aside away from the mouthpiece of the phone, something that sounded like, ‘I’ll tell you when we hang up’, and Kagome smiled to herself at the knowledge that they were together. “Stick it out for a bit, little cousin. We’re behind you. I’ll talk to Mom, ask for some time off. I’ll come down to see you.”

              They talked for a little while longer. She thanked him, then apologized, then thanked him again. Immediately after hanging up, the burden on her shoulders felt a little lighter.

              Until she organized her thoughts and realized what her next step had to be. Nervously, she sat up, and opened her phone to the text message thread she shared with Kouga. _‘Grats on your last appointment today. Miroku told me what happened. Keep it together. I’m making some inquiries on my end_. Her response: _Thank you._ _I will_.

              With trembling fingers, Kagome brushed her hair behind her ears, then touched her thumbs to the on-screen keyboard. _Something has happened and I need your help. Can we talk?_

              She felt horrible. Everything felt horrible. Everything _was_ horrible.

              But she couldn’t help the little smile that lit her face at his response, mere seconds later. _Tell me when and where. Whatever you need, you’ve got it._

              It was hard, having to tell the same terrible story twice in one day, but she did it. It was even harder for Kagome, who had always considered herself independent and self-sufficient, to ask for help the way she had to with Kouga. But she did it. And to his credit, much like Ichiro, he kept to the conversation at hand. She could almost forget the confrontation that had happened the last time they met, so supportive and _platonic_ was he as he listened to her tale and responded to her plea. But she didn’t forget it. For his sake, and the sake of their friendship, she wouldn’t allow herself to forget.

              When Monday morning came, Kagome was a ball of nerves. Kouga picked her up from her morning class, walking silently beside her as they traversed the campus in the direction of the faculty offices. Kagome’s hands were alternately fisted and flexed at her sides as they entered the building, then as they climbed the stairs to the department floor.

              As soon as she stood in the hallway, seeing the light on under Naraku-sensei’s door, she stopped. Kouga halted beside her. “You ready?” He asked, gruffly.

              “Yeah,” was her shaky reply.

              Hesitantly, his hand found its way to her shoulder, where he gave her a quick squeeze before releasing her again. “You got this,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

              She nodded, took a fortifying breath.

              Naraku opened the door just as she raised her hand to knock on it. “Ah, Higurashi-kun. On time as always.” The pleased smile on his face disappeared as his eyes flitted to Kouga, who stood immediately behind her. His red gaze sharpened and met Kagome’s. “This meeting may take a while – you do not intend to make your friend wait?”

              Kagome straightened. “He won’t have to wait,” she replied, voice strong, to her own surprise. “I’m here to decline your offer.”

              His eyes widened, but then a little sneer came to life on his lips. “Oh?” He leaned casually in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t you _like_ the gift I gave you? I thought for sure it would be convincing enough. Perhaps I ought to offer you—” his eyes flitted to Kouga again “—something else?”

              Kouga’s growl behind her startled Kagome nearly out of her boots. She glanced back at him and shook her head. The rumbling stopped, but the feral expression on his face remained. Again, Naraku’s expression was surprised; he was probably just now realizing that Kagome knew about youkai, from the way his regard shifted between Kouga and her.

              “There is nothing you can offer that will convince me,” she declared. “And nothing you do will get you what you want.” Her hand came up to the stone around her neck, in that damnable anxious gesture of hers. She opened her mouth, for a moment wanting to ask him to back off, to let her be, but then closed her lips tightly.

              “Got it?” Kouga barked from behind her, and Kagome clenched her jaw to keep from yelling at him.

              Naraku’s posture relaxed, and his eyes squinted in a smile. He regarded them from a moment, and then let out a series of delighted little chuckles. “The muscle talks, does he?” he said at length. “And this little mouse has more of a backbone than I thought,” he mused aloud. “My goodness, Higurashi-kun, you do have a way of keeping things interesting.”

              Kagome opened her mouth, furious, but Naraku cut her off.

              “I was going to make this easy for you, my dear. I _was_. But it seems that circumstances have changed sufficiently to force me to alter my plans.”

              “What—”

              “Allow me to make myself clear.” He leaned forward, completely ignoring the growling Kouga behind her. “I will excuse you from your special assignment. But you _will_ give me _all_ that I desire. No wolf or dog, or whatever other speedbump you attempt to put in my way, will do anything to stop me.” He raised his hand, reaching for her face. “I know a little something about the way a human’s heart works, Higurashi-kun. I know what it takes to sway one. And even better, I have _endless_ tools of persuasion at my disposal, to reach those exact ends.” His finger extended and tapped the tip of Kagome’s nose.

              She reeled back, just as Kouga moved to push her behind him.

              “Now, now,” Naraku said, raising his arms defensively and stepping back. “You’ve said your piece. Run along. I’ll see you in class on Friday, Higurashi…”

              Kagome grabbed Kouga’s arm, and pulled him along with her away from Naraku, heart simultaneously clogging up her throat and hammering in her head.

              As she reached out to open the door to the stairwell, Naraku’s voice rang out once more. “… or perhaps before then.”

-+-

              As though the series of confrontations with Naraku hadn’t happened, the next few weeks were eerily quiet. Kagome had an escort to and from his class and to and from his office whenever she had to stop there to turn an assignment in to his drop-box. Periodically she would bump into Aotsuki-sensei. They would greet one another, then proceed past each other. Just when she would find it easier to see him, less painful, she would feel his youki licking at her ankles like waves at the beach – drawing away and then reaching back out. And then, for a while, it wouldn’t be quite so easy anymore. But at least Naraku seemed to be backing off.

              Then, the nightmares began.

              There was no question who was to blame for those.

              The first happened one night, early in October. She fell asleep after a glass of wine and some casual carousing with Sango and Miroku, a pleasant buzz lulling her into a defenseless slumber. In her dream, she woke in a field of flowers. There was a warm breeze stirring around her, carrying their sweet scent. She got to her feet and felt the grass tickling her ankles, much how Aotsuki-sensei’s youki had the last time she saw him outside of Naraku’s office. She looked down at the grass and was surprised to see it was the same color as his youki too.

              As she wandered on, the breeze grew chillier, the brush denser. No longer lovely wildflowers, she was plowing her way through grasses and thicket as high as her knees. Her progress slowed. It grew dark. The feeling of youki curling around her feet hampered her advance, until a tendril of it wrapped around her leg tightly and toppled her with a vicious tug.

              A shadowy figure loomed over her. In her dream, she was convinced it was Sesshoumaru; when she woke, she recognized that the dark hair and gleaming red eyes had been Naraku’s. His hand wrapped around her neck, a purple haze surrounding them, blocking out all the light. His grip tightened, as if to choke the life out of her.

              Then it released. He ran his finger down her neck to her collarbone, in the semblance of a caress. _You will give me_ _what I desire_ , his voice echoed in her head, and in the dream, it sounded so much like Aotsuki-sensei’s voice; but when she woke, she remembered that he had always stopped to ask for permission.

              His fingers tapped on her clavicle, and then traced a lingering line to her shoulder. He stroked the skin there. He wrapped his fingers over her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then his hand closed firmly over her flesh. And the pressure there grew. And grew. And slowly, slowly, she felt the flesh in her joint begin to rend, detach from bone, shred and separate.

              She woke with a tortured scream, and immediately gripped her hand to the shoulder where Naraku’s had been. Heart thundering in her chest, she jumped out of bed and ran to her mirror, looking to confirm with her eyes what she felt with her fingers – she was fine. But it had felt so _real_.

              That was the first of many such nightmares. As October pressed on, they came more and more frequently. ‘Once a week’ gave way to ‘every other night’, and the sleep aversion and poor quality of rest began taking their toll on her.

              Soon enough, October had passed by. November brought with it a biting cold, but no respite for Kagome from the onslaught of nightmares.

              One Tuesday morning in mid-November, a little after breakfast time, Sango burst into her bedroom. “Kagome!” She cried, glee evident in her voice. “It’s snowing!”

              Kagome turned her head to look out the window, and true enough, small white flurries were floating toward the earth in a relaxed but sparkling dance. She turned back to Sango and grinned. “Finally!”

              Sango walked further into the room and stood by her friend at the window. “So beautiful…” They both sighed in contentment while enjoying the view, but soon enough Sango’s eyes returned to the wan complexion of her friend’s face. “Another nightmare?”

              “Yeah,” Kagome mumbled, closing her eyes tightly. “I’ll just take a nap later.” 

              They both knew that even a short nap wasn’t safe from infiltration by the nightmares that had been plaguing her. But Sango knew better than to mention that, so she instead changed the subject. “I guess it’s finally time for our big coats, huh?” She asked, looking out the window again.

              “Mmm,” Kagome replied. “Which reminds me, I have to fix mine. Hole in the pocket.”

              “Want me to do it?”

              Kagome laughed. “No way!” Sango wasn’t exactly well-known for her skill with a needle.

              She settled down at her desk with her sewing kit later that afternoon. She stuck a hand into the left pocket and felt around – this one was fine. So, carefully, she patted the coat from left to right, looking for anything that had fallen between the lining and the outer material of the coat. Halfway between the left and right pockets, there was a small round lump which she pushed over to the right side until it was roughly in the vicinity of the pocket.

              Satisfied, she reached within it, working the hole in the lining open a little further so she could fit a few fingers in, until the small lump was in her grasp. Her fingers immediately recognized the texture. Paper.

              A knock at her bedroom door startled the coat out of her hands.

              Disgruntled, Kagome set the work aside to complete later. She opened the door and was surprised to see Miroku there, an awkward smile on his face.

              “Can I come in?” He asked, and Kagome ushered him into her room. She was surprised when he waited for her to pass him and then closed the door behind them, but it didn’t take long to figure out why. “Sango says you’re still having nightmares.”

              “Yeah.”

              He settled down on her desk chair, opposite where she sat on the edge of the bed. “Is it still… him?”

              He had been there when Kagome had told of the first nightmare. Sango too, so they hadn’t been able to talk about the cause of her dreams openly, but it figured that he would have puzzled that one out. “Still Naraku,” she sighed, feeling suddenly more tired than ever. “Sometimes he’ll show up as Aotsuki-sensei, sometimes he’ll show up as Kouga-kun. Sometimes as himself. But it’s always clear that it’s him.” He watched her as she paused to run a hand through her hair. “It’s been more and more frequent. And it’s escalating. A lot.”

              She shuddered, thinking of the last dream. He had gotten as far as taking off her clothes, there, before he had reached toward her and plunged his hand into her chest, pulling her heart out and the Shikon no Tama with it. What had that police officer called it? _Traumatic Cardiectomy in vivo._ She had woken with a tightness in her chest and a wet, metallic warmth in her mouth. Kagome had run to the bathroom immediately, to spit out a mouthful of blood. She could still taste the coppery tang, and it filled her with revulsion and dread.

              Miroku reached out to her, putting a comforting hand on her knee. She looked up at him and he belatedly waggled his eyebrows at her, the flirtatious move breaking some of the tension and putting a smile on her face. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up so I didn’t say anything before, but I’ve done a little digging around, to see if I could find something that might help.” This caught her attention immediately. “I’m not sure how effective it will be, but it’s worth a shot.”

              Kagome sat up, eyes taking in every movement Miroku made as he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a manila envelope. He handed it over to her, gesturing for her to open it. “What is it?” She asked, pulling the flap open and peering inside. A stack of oblong white papers and a splash of black ink. Ofudas.

              As she pulled one out, he explained. “These are protective spells. Place one in each cardinal direction, vertically, so like on a wall. It should last overnight. I know that’s not long, so I brought you a bunch in case they _do_ work.” He shrugged. “According to the text, they should protect against malevolent energies or curses.”

              Her eyebrows shot up. “Or?”

              “The, uh… the text was a little weather-damaged. It’s hard to say which it meant.”

              “Thank you,” she said, voice full of warmth.

              “Don’t thank me unless they’re effective,” he shrugged. “I just hope you can get a little sleep. You’re looking dead on your feet.”

              Kagome glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind him. He wasn’t wrong. The bags under her eyes were dark and deep, and her skin had taken a grey-ish, wan cast. She looked like a zombie. “The fact that you put in the effort to do something like this for me is worth my thanks, effective or not.”

              He gave her a half-smile and got to his feet. “You gonna try them out now?”

              She laughed, shaking her head. “I have an assignment to work on. I might head over to the library and do a little work there. I’ll wait until tonight.”

              “Oh really? Sango and I had a class cancel. We were gonna go to the library together today too. For a mostly-silent study sesh. Want to join us?”

              “I’d love to!” She exclaimed, pleased by the invitation. Being in a different field of study, there was nothing for them to study _together_ per se, but hanging out while hitting the books was something they didn’t do often enough. “When are you leaving?”

              “Two minutes?”

              Kagome glanced at her coat, debating whether that would be enough time to properly fix the pocket.          Aah, it could wait. She’d just put her keys in the left side, or fish them out of the lining if she forgot and put them on the right.

              She met her friends by the front door of the apartment moments later, her winter coat zipped up to her neck and her bag slung over her shoulder. The three of them made merry chatter as they trudged through the half-inch of freshly fallen snow on their way to campus. The winter air was crisp, and nipped at her cheeks and her nose, and she _loved_ the sensation. Winter meant spring was near, and Spring heralded new beginnings. She could certainly use one after the year she’d had.

              By the time they’d made it to the library, Kagome couldn’t feel her toes. But she didn’t mind. They stomped the snow off their boots, shook out their coats, and made their way into the building, where a blast of warm air melted the snot that had frozen in Kagome’s nose. Discreetly, she wiped it with a tissue, and followed her friends toward the back, where they had reserved a study room.

              The wall facing the hallway in which it sat was made of glass—the wall opposite the glass one was all double-paned window, giving the effect that the study room was open to the outdoors. It was fancy, and thankfully heated, so they stripped their coats off, slung them onto the coat rack in the corner, and settled down at the large table in the middle of the room to work.

              “Do you mind if we use the whiteboard?” Sango asked, motioning to the large markerboard on the wall between study rooms.

              Kagome shook her head. She plugged her laptop in to preserve battery and made herself cozy in her chair. “I’m just gonna start with some backed up lecture recordings I took,” she said. “I have a few days of notes that are shamefully blank and need filling in.”

              “Blank?” Sango asked, head tilting. “That’s unlike you.”

              “It’s Naraku’s class,” Kagome supplied, plugging her headphones into the laptop. “He’s got the delivery of a wet rag.” They gave her weak smiles in response to her jest and she waved at them. “Bye, guys. Let me know when it’s snack time.”

              They waved back, and she put her headphones on, navigating to the folder of saved recordings, and opening the one for the first lecture where she had missed a large portion of the notes. It was a ridiculously large file and took a minute to buffer – how did she end up with a recording that was 6 and a half hours long? – but soon enough, Naraku’s hateful voice was droning in her ears.

              She took diligent notes for about the first hour. Then her attention began to wander. She would watch as Sango and Miroku flipped through their textbooks or jotted some notes on the whiteboard. Eventually her eyes drifted closed, and her head lowered to the table.

              Her eyes opened in dream-land.

              By now the scenery was so familiar that it she knew exactly to expect, moment for moment. A warm summer breeze, carrying the scent of wildflowers. Pink, purple, and blue blossoms dotting the grass, as green as Aotsuki-sensei’s youki. She sat up. Although Kagome was frighteningly aware that she was dreaming, and just _what kind_ of dream this was, she was not in control. She was an unwilling audience of Naraku’s Perversions and Psychological Torture, the Film, and she couldn’t even close her eyes to block out the view.  

              She slowly got to her feet and began walking. It always started like this. The grass grew taller, thicker, less yielding. Sweat rolled down her skin as she pushed her way through it, until eventually, something stopped her in her tracks.

              This was always where things changed. Sometimes the youki would trip her. Sometimes she would stumble and fall. Sometimes, she’d reach the end of the thicket. This time, her progress forward halted because of the sensation of hitting a wall. She looked down to where her hands had encountered the barrier and saw there was a doorknob protruding from the empty air.

              Turning it slowly, Kagome pushed first, then pulled. The air cracked open, and beyond the doorway, was a large, square room, with ceilings so high she could barely see them. “Ahh,” came the smooth, mocking voice of her tormentor, “you’re here. We’ve been waiting.”

              The door snapped closed behind her, and when she glanced backwards at it, saw there was no knob on this side. She shuffled forward into the still-empty room, and as she advanced, three shadows appeared and materialized into human form. Or, human- _like_ form, she supposed, being that the three were all youkai.

              There was Naraku, seated on a black throne. Before him, kneeling, were Sesshoumaru and Kouga, heads bowed low. Kagome stopped about ten feet away from them, hands wringing uncertainly. _I **never** wring my hands, _ she thought in disgust.

              “Come here, my love,” Naraku the King said, extending a hand toward her.

              _(She’s having a nightmare. I’m going to wake her up.)_

              She stepped forward gingerly toward him, fingers reaching for his. When their hands touched, he wrapped his around hers and pulled her securely to his side. Kagome tucked into him, resting her head on his chest. “My sweet, I have before us two foolish beasts who wish to battle for the right to your hand,” he derided. “Would you bless either of them with such a gift?”

              “Of course not,” her mouth uttered, slightly muffled by the fabric of his royal robes. Kagome’s hackles rose.

              “Of course not,” he repeated. “Then what shall we do with them? Fight to the death?”

              “Oh, yes, please,” came her response in the dream, and Kagome gagged in horror, and desperately began clawing her way toward wakefulness.

_(No, Sango. Let her sleep. I brought something for this.)_

              Kagome registered the voices of her friends through the veil of the dream. Somewhere in the background, she could also hear the faint droning of Naraku’s lecture. But despite her awareness that she was in fact dreaming, and that the distance between sleeping and waking was so, so small, Naraku had a firm grip on her. She kicked and struggled mentally against the vicelike hold he had on her consciousness, knowing from experience that it would do nothing, but unable to stop herself from her token resistance.

              “There you have it, you pathetic little fools,” Naraku’s voice said, as though leaning closer to her ear. “I may have a prize for the winner.”

              Sesshoumaru waited no further before lunging at Kouga, hand raised, claws extended and dripping with a green, venomous goo. Kouga, always so fast on his feet, was not fast enough. They rarely co-starred in his nightmares, but when they did, Naraku had them fight or kill each other in various ways, usually over her. Never, in any of their conflicts, though, had Kouga won. Despite his hatred for Aotsuki-sensei, Naraku at least seemed to have some respect for his battle prowess, if nothing else; for Kouga, he had none.

              Though Kouga was injured by the first blow, the fight dragged on. Kouga took the upper hand twice – once with an injury to Sesshoumaru’s abdomen, nearly eviscerating him, and the other by severing his right hand. For each momentary victory on Kouga’s part, Sesshoumaru had twice as many to his name. He ducked and dodged with ease and grace, attacked ruthlessly. Even with one hand, he maintained a surprising amount of that fantastic calm with which she had grown used to seeing him move. Mercilessly.

              She wondered, occasionally, if this was truly how he fought in battle, or just the way Naraku wanted to portray him.

              If only she could close her mind’s eye. Do _something_ to shut this all out.

              Sesshoumaru withdrew a bloodied claw from Kouga’s chest, and within its grip was Kouga’s still beating heart. Ah – that was classic Naraku. Kouga’s voice, weakening by the moment, had gone from a scream of pain, to now, the sound of a leaking air balloon: a steady, breathy whine. His body collapsed to the floor. Sesshoumaru turned to Naraku and bowed once more, falling to his knees, Kouga’s heart held aloft before him.

              “Congratulations, swine,” Naraku spat. “And now for your reward – I shall allow you to enjoy the sight of what it is that will never be yours, and always be mine.” He pulled Kagome from his side, maneuvering her in front of him. His hands settled on her shoulders, and he slid one finger under the strap of her dress. “In the flesh.”

              Kagome watched, horrified, as Naraku used an overgrown claw to slice through the strap. The fabric fell, exposing her partially. She watched as her face in the dream glowed with love for the man behind her, completely uncaring of her partial nudity. She gagged. The room grew darker, and a black tentacle spawned from the ether behind Sesshoumaru, poising itself to strike him from behind.

              Naraku slid a finger under the other strap.

              The tentacle became pointed, like a spear, rearing back to gather momentum.

              Just as the tentacle sprinted forward –

              Kagome found herself alone. The darkness around her vanished. The sickening stench of blood in the air disappeared. She was in a quiet clearing, surrounded by tall, stately trees. An occasional breeze filtered through them. There was a rotting well structure at the top of the hill, across from a particularly majestic tree – one which she recognized. The Goshinboku. Then that must be the well in the dingy, locked-up well-house at home? She wandered over to it, leaned over and saw that it was indeed a dried up old well. But it was familiar. And it was peaceful. She took a seat beside it, leaning against the wood for support.

              _(Looks like she’s settled down.)_ That was Sango’s voice, ringing clearly with surprise.

              _(Huh. The ofuda ward actually worked.)_

 _(Oh yeah, I’m **sure** that it’s it.)_ Her voice was sarcastic but kind. _(Not, say, this coat I laid over her shoulders?)_

              So that was it.

              She was still asleep, but still semi-conscious. She could wake up now if she wanted. But the prospect of even five minutes of rest without the threat of one of Naraku’s nightmares was so _tempting_ …

              Kagome gave in, and sank deeper and deeper into the best sleep of her life.

             

 

              She explored the woods. Walked past a charming town. Traipsed her way to an imaginary seashore and watched the sun set from the beach. There was nothing in this world except for her. She loved it.

 

 

              _(Sorry about that, ma’am.)_ Miroku’s voice filtered down to where she was lost in dreamland. Some of the rosiness vanished from her vision, and she became aware of an encroaching darkness.

              _(No tape on the glass, is that what she said?)_

 _(Yeah. Have to pull the other three down too.)_ He sounded disgruntled.

              Kagome could feel as each ofuda came off the wall. The one to the north was gone already. Then the one to the East, from which a sudden, chilling wind began to blow. It should have occurred to her that Naraku would be upset by their interference. She tried to wake herself, but again, found she could not.

              _(I’m gonna wake her up. It’s been two hours, it should be okay, right? She said to tell her when it’s snack time.)_ Kagome felt the Southern-facing ofuda come down next, and a creeping feeling of dread. _Yes_ , she thought in panic. _Wake me up!_

              But instead, Sango’s voice rang out again after a moment. _(She said she’s listening to Naraku’s lecture, right?)_ Kagome felt the droning of Naraku’s voice, directly in her ears, become more distant. Sango must have unplugged the headphones.

              _(What are you doing?)_

_(Give me a sec. I just wanna hear that bastard’s voice.)_

But the sound that came through next was not Naraku’s voice any longer, but the cacophony of a classroom just released from class. And the next voice on the recording was not Naraku’s, but hers. “I am so sorry,” she mumbled. There was some noise, as the recorder was moved. When she spoke again, her voice sounded more distant. A little muffled. “I’m not quite back to myself yet.”

              “Never mind that. Please stay back a minute. I have something to discuss with you.”

              _(When was this?)_ growled Sango’s voice.

              Miroku must have forgotten the last ofuda, because the barrier to the West still remained. And he was able to answer Sango correctly – he must have looked at her computer.

              _(Wait – isn’t that the day – )_

              More classroom noise, filtered through fabric. Still trapped in darkness with Naraku waiting to pounce on her. _Hurry up and wake me!_ She cried with her mind, just as her voice rang out again. “What did you have to discuss?”

              “Two matters of business come to mind.” A pause. “Though perhaps the first might count as two as well. I wanted to follow up regarding our recent conversation. I do hope you are feeling better?”

              “Yes, thank you.” She sounded stiff.

              “Good, good. We discussed two matters, at the time, if you recall. I wanted to assure you, if you were not already aware, that I fulfilled my promise to you and spoke to the police about my— about Kagura.” A pause. “The other matter we discussed was your academics. Your performance last semester was acceptable, despite how things began. I would like to see you continue to exert an effort this semester; but I expect that you can do far better. With that in mind, I’ve had an idea.”

              “Oh?”

              “I have a special project in mind for you. In actuality it was the project I had hoped for your assistance with, during the summer vacation, before you became… _otherwise_ _employed_. I think it would be an excellent supplement to your curriculum this semester.”

              Kagome’s voice hesitated. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’ll need some time to consider the offer, however.” She must have moved the bag—her next words were cut off.  “ – load myself with more than I can handle and underperform.”

              “I shall expect you in my office and ready to start on Monday at eleven; your morning class ends right around then, I understand. Please bring along a fresh notebook, and do not be late.”

              Sputtering from Kagome: “I just said—”, and growling from Sango: _(This piece of – )_

              “Of _course_ ,” he cut them both off, “and do take all the time you need to consider. I have a feeling the last order of business will make it far easier to come to a decision, though.”

              “Which is what?” She snapped.

               “Merely a sentiment I wanted to share. You should have received an official visit yesterday, or perhaps this morning?” Footsteps followed. “I _do_ hope you liked my _present_.”

              More footsteps.

              “Oh my God.” Kagome’s voice sounded paper thin. “Kagura…?”

              Then noise. And footsteps.

              _(I’m waking her up.)_

              Kagome slammed into consciousness with the sensation of Sango’s hand on her shoulder. She sucked in a breath as though she had been drowning and just now came up for air.

              “Hey, you okay?” Miroku asked, eyes on his friend as he took down the last ofuda.

              Kagome squeezed her eyes shut and nodded her head. “I- I’m okay.” She looked up at her friends and reared back at the rage burning in Sango’s eyes. “Sango?”

              “You didn’t tell me _anything_ ,” she seethed. “This has been going on for _months_? No wonder you’re not sleeping!” Her voice was low, near breaking. “What the _fuck_ , Kagome?”

              She stood, inching upward as she gathered her thoughts.

              “No. No. Don’t say _anything_ ,” Sango warbled, eyes flooding with tears. “Miroku and I are going to go outside. I need to cool off. You have five minutes to decide what you’re going to do.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “My vote is we take this to your department head.”

              Kagome sunk her head in her hands as Sango and Miroku left the room. _What are the **odds**_? She groaned. What on _earth_ could explain such horrible timing? _Ugh._ Curse her rotten luck.

              Her head popped up.

              Curse her rotten luck.

              _Curse_ her… rotten luck…?

              Something niggled at the back of her mind. A memory. A curse…

              With a gasp, Kagome bolted from her chair. _It can’t be_. Yanking her winter coat off the back of the chair. Blindly, she shoved her hand into the right pocket, feeling for the crumpled paper she had found earlier. It crinkled as she unfolded it into a long paper strip.  

              It couldn’t be. She could swear that she had taken care of it the way she was meant to. But as she started unfolding the folded strip of the omikuji, the memory came crashing back.

              Souta, calling her from among the crowd.

              Getting swept up in the activity of the day.

              And forgetting to take care of the most important business: Tying away her ill-fortune.

Before she unfolded the it for the final time, she could already see the bold black text at the very right. _Dai-kyou._ A Great Curse.

              She hadn’t really believed it, when she drew it. Of course when it was a good fortune, she would always hope for it to come true, but much like new-years’ resolutions, set so eagerly at first, the words of the fortunes would fade from her memory within the span of days or weeks.

              Her eyes flicked over the paper, going from one line to the next. _Your Wish: There will be many hardships.  An Expected Visitor: He will not come. A Thing You Have Lost: You will not find it. Travel: Avoid travel. Business: Do not be active in any transactions. Studies: You will have to work harder. Competition: You will lose. Love: Your love will not be returned. Illness: There will be great danger. Be pious. Marriage Proposal: It will not come._

              With the exception of the final one – because she was so freaking far from getting a proposal that how could that one event count? – she could think of at least one major event that had made the fortune true. She closed her eyes, pained, and leaned back in her chair.

              She recalled that winter morning, just under a year ago. The feeling of the crisp, folded omikuji in her chilled fingers as she walked away from the crowd. In her mind’s eye, she could see it. The wooden gate. The placard posted prominently on it. _When you draw good fortune, you should not be careless and arrogant._ _Even if bad fortune, have no fear. Try to be modest and gentle. Whether in good or bad fortune, you should tenaciously do your best. You can carve out your own fortune._

              Kagome had read that sign so many times she could recite it by heart.

              Her phone chimed. It was from Miroku. Kagome sighed. Really, there were giving her five minutes to decide what to do?

              She had been struggling fruitlessly against this tide of ill-fortune for the _entire year_.

              Or…

              Kind of…

              Had she, really?

              Or had she kind of been running away from it all? Hoping it would go away on its own?

              Had she _tenaciously_ been doing her best? Or just letting things happen to her and around her?

              She gritted her teeth.

              She studied her hands and clenched her jaw shut.

              Kagome’s phone beeped again.

              So much for five minutes.

              With a deep breath, Kagome steeled herself. She stood, threaded her arms through the sleeves of her coat, and zipped it up to her chin. She tucked her laptop into her bag, shouldering it with a grunt. In the score of steps from the study room to the library exit, she had taken the words of that placard to heart.

              Naraku wasn’t going to get out of her life unless she forced him out of it.

              Sango’s eyes sought hers out the moment Kagome stepped out into the cold. She nodded gravely and held her hand out to her friend. Kagome took it, and they proceeded to the faculty offices hand in hand. “You think he’ll be there?”

              Kagome nodded. Myouga-sensei kept highly reliable hours.

              The three of them walked into the hallway that Kagome had traversed so many times. She stumbled in her step. Naraku’s light was off. Myouga-sensei’s was on. And the door just before his –  Aotsuki-sensei’s – had a beam of light shining from below it, too. Sango squeezed her hand then, so Kagome pushed her trepidation aside.

              She knocked lightly on Myouga-sensei’s door and was surprised that he called out nearly immediately for them to come in.

              Sango and Miroku flanked her as she approached Myouga-sensei’s desk. He was peeking out at her from under his bushy, thick brows, the long white hairs curling like whiskers. But he had an open expression on his face, and the warmth in his eyes melted all of Kagome’s reservations.

              She had to do this.

              And she was going to do it. Now.                   

              So she turned to her friends and asked them to wait for her outside. They glanced at each other before letting themselves out, Miroku giving her arm a fortifying squeeze.

              So she spoke. She told him everything.

              Maybe her voice rose in the telling.

              Or maybe someone had just overheard, with his keen sense of hearing.

              But the venomous look in his reddened gaze, and the agitated green youki flooding the room and thrashing and writhing up her legs like flames from a raging inferno as he burst into the office, left no question as to how he felt about the matter.  

 

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> AN: Kagome taking shit into her own hands. Finally. And then they get away from her. Of course. There will be many hardships, right?
> 
> SO. Now that the end is near. Any questions you have left unanswered? Any theories you want to share? Let me have it, lovely readers!!
> 
>  
> 
> Got it posted JUST IN (LOCAL) TIME (IF A WEEK LATER THAN ORIGINALLY PLANNED).
> 
> Expect Chapter 16 on 4/27 or 28!


	16. 願事  Your Wish: There will be many hardships. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I hate confrontation in real life, and writing it is like, infinitely harder, especially when you’re writing in tight third and your narrator is not participating. Hopefully this turned out to standard.
> 
> TW for Naraku, violence, death, brief/mild sexual violence (to skip, avoid section between *s).

 

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Sixteen

_願事_ _Your Wish: There will be many hardships. Part II_

He turned his brilliant, red-tinged eyes to Kagome immediately upon storming through the door. His gaze, despite the venomous wrath behind his irises, was measuring, as though cataloguing her appearance and cross-referencing it with what he had heard as she told her tale.

              “Sesshoumaru-sama,” Myouga-sensei’s voice broke through the intense inspection, drawing two sets of eyes toward him, where he sat perfectly calm behind the desk.

_Wait, -Sama?_

              “I thought you meant to stay away,” he continued, flicking his gaze to Kagome and back, suggestion in his tone.

              “Quiet,” Sesshoumaru snapped in response.

              But Myouga-sensei did not seem inclined to obey the command. “You should know the truth by now, Sesshoumaru-sama. Perhaps I should allow you two a moment to talk. _Just_ talk, if you please,” was his impertinent reply. Ignoring Sesshoumaru’s growls, the elderly youkai stood up, walked around the desk in an unrushed pace, and circled to Kagome’s side. He touched her arm lightly, and the intensity of the growling in the room increased. “I leave you in good hands, my dear.” With one more quick, pointed look at Sesshoumaru, he moved sedately to the door to let himself out, leaving two very agitated individuals in the room.

              Kagome looked everywhere but at the youkai in front her – somehow she was acutely aware that he was _not_ a human. In her peripherals, his teeth were bared, and they were _sharp_. Canine. “How much did you hear?” she asked eventually, when it was clear he had no intention of either moving or speaking.

              “Enough,” he replied. This time, Kagome knew ‘enough’ meant ‘everything’.

              “Okay,” she breathed, eyes trailing up his body hesitantly, to meet his incisive gaze. “So why are you here?”

              His jaw clenched and he swiveled away, stalking to the window behind the desk and stopping there, back toward her. He was silent and tense, back rigid, fists clenched. Just when she was about to give up hope of his answering, he turned to face her once more. His eyes were still red, irises still blue, but some of the tightness had faded from his expression. “I do not know,” was his belated reply, half spat and half murmured, as though both unsure and resentful at the same time.

              “Okay,” she repeated, feeling the anger and bitterness simmering under her skin. “Good talk. I’m leaving,” she ground out. Her hair whipped around her as she pivoted to the exit, but she made it only one step before he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

              She looked up at him, her own rage beginning to smolder, turning her lips downward and raising her voice. “Let me go,” she said, and he obeyed, releasing her only to then move to block her physically from escaping through the door. “You don’t get to _do_ this,” she bit out. “You don’t get to just come and go as you please, fuck me and dump me, and act like there’s a place for you whenever you feel offended enough to come back.”

              Offended, because what else could it be? He’d heard of Naraku’s use of his image in tormenting her, and was so offended by it, he barged in just as she was talking to the only person who could help her.

              Sesshoumaru remained, still as a statue before her, except for the slow drawing back of his lips as he exposed his teeth once more. A low, rumbling growl filled the room. “You do not tell me my place, _human_.”

              Kagome reeled backward, the spite in that one word like a slap to the face. To say it like that… “Wow,” she said, biting her lip to keep it from quivering, “you must really hate me.”

              He slammed his fist on the side of one of the bookcases that flanked the door. “You think you know it all,” he hissed. “You know _nothing_.”

              She shook her head. “Let me through, Sesshoumaru.”

              He didn’t budge.

              Kagome could feel the ire boiling in her blood. He had _no right_ to do this. The rage ran burning trails through her body, shooting to her fingertips in a rush of sensation, familiar in type but new in intensity. The light reflecting on Sesshoumaru’s face took a pinkish cast, and his reddened eyes widened in response. Kagome was shaking with suppressed anger, and clenched her fists tightly to her sides, knowing that her reiki was curling around her extremities and beyond her control.

              Finally, Sesshoumaru stepped aside, allowing just enough space for her to side-step around him and through the doorway, brushing against his arm as she passed – the sound of sizzling and the smell of burnt flesh chasing her down the hallway as she made her escape.

              She cried the entire way home, refusing to explain herself to her two frantically worried friends as they chased her. It was worse than she thought. He must really hate her. And she hadn’t even gotten to finish her conversation with Myouga-sensei, so everything was still in limbo.

              She just wanted to be done with this. She just wanted this nightmare of year to be over.

             

 

              Once at home, and once she had calmed down, Kagome decided to write Myouga-sensei an email to follow up on what they had discussed. His response was nearly instantaneous, and thankfully, left out any mention of the man he had left in his office with her. He was scheduling a meeting for arbitration. This seemed an odd course to pursue until she received another email from him – this time from a personal address – explaining that he was unable to properly express himself on the University’s official email, but that there was a bit more to it than ‘arbitration’. He did not specify what that meant.

              It was three days before she received a follow-up, again from his personal account. He provided a protracted set of directions for how to arrive at the chosen place, as well as a satellite photo marking the spot with a bright red X. After this, came the information regarding the time and date of their meeting. Sunday next, at 1500 hours.

              There was a short paragraph that followed, and its content both surprised and concerned her: _While it is preferable for you to come alone, I understand if you would rather have an escort with you. Please limit your company to those who either are or already know of the existence of youkai, no more than three at the most. You may expect attendance from his side to be similarly limited; it will likely consist of just Naraku-sensei himself._

              With a little under a week to wait before their meeting, Kagome had plenty of time to build up her courage. She would see this through. It pained her to think of going alone, but she would follow Myouga-sensei’s recommendation.

              It occurred to her to ask, when Thursday rolled around, for further information regarding what exactly would occur at this meeting. He had likened it to arbitration, and she was inclined to believe him, but she was sure it could be nothing so simple as that. She made her way to Myouga-sensei’s office after her afternoon class, with the express intention of asking him, when, in passing Naraku’s door, she began to wonder if Naraku knew what all of this was about, and whether it would be safe for her to go to his class the next day.

              Once she had satisfied herself that both Naraku’s and Sesshoumaru’s office lights were off and that there would be no interruptions during her meeting, she knocked on the department head’s door. Myouga-sensei ushered her in, closing it behind her, and offered her a cup a tea, which she politely declined.

              “What can I do for you today, Higurashi-kun?”

              “I – Will it really be just the three of us at the meeting?”

              He raised his bushy white eyebrows and rearranged himself in his chair. “Yes,” he said, drawing the word out as though it needed qualifying. “Unless of course, you choose to bring someone along to accompany you. I have said it is not preferable, and that stands.” His fingers steepled under his chin, and he studied her for a moment. Kagome waited patiently, knowing not to interrupt when he was organizing his thoughts. “It is likely that the presence of additional parties may exacerbate conflict, so please keep that in mind. Shall I explain to you what to expect?”

              Kagome settled down across from him, leaning forward in her seat. “Yes, please do. I’ve obviously never been to a youkai ‘arbitration’ before.”

              Again, as was his wont, he remained silent, eyes considering. When he spoke next, her blood ran cold. “Naraku has been a problem-child in our community for a long time; since long before you were born. It has been decided that an end must be put to him.” He reached for his cup of tea and took a slow sip.

              _An end must be put to him_. That was the most passive, indirect construction she had ever heard. “And end must be put to _him_?” she asked, attempting to clarify.

              “Mmm. Perhaps I misspoke. That may be one of the outcomes, at least.”

              “That doesn’t help me, Myouga-sensei.”

              He chuckled. “There is no _one way_ these things play out,” he explained. “Naraku’s punishment may be no punishment at all – which is excessively unlikely, considering – or it may mean death. This is all decided then.”

              “So it’s really like a trial?” she asked. “Do I have to make a statement? Will there be questioning?”

              “It is nothing like a trial,” he shook his head. “It’s more like a war.”

              “ _What_?”

              He seemed mildly amused, as though enjoying her total lack of knowledge. “You have a great deal to catch up on, Higurashi-kun. Youkai society is not like human society; we do not have police, or judges, or a legal system at all.”

              Kagome thought back to what Kouga had said when he proposed to her – something about _our court will handle it._ That didn’t jive with what Myouga-sensei was saying. She asked him about it and was startled by the immediate raising of his eyebrows up to his hairline.

              “‘Court’, eh?” He shook his head. “The young man was doubtlessly referring to this settling of grievances. We have no _court_ , as I said. He might have been trying to shield you from the reality of what the event entails.”

              “Which is war?”

              “Yes,” he replied, gravely. “You must prepare yourself, Higurashi-kun, for the very likely reality that somebody will die.”

-+-

              Despite forgetting to ask Myouga-sensei whether she should or not, she ended up skipping Naraku-sensei’s class. She couldn’t bring herself to go. She was in such a commotion of feelings that she knew there was no way she would get anything out of the lecture anyway. Her justifications for skipping didn’t even turn out mattering, though, when twenty minutes after the class should have begun, she received an email, sent to the entire class, apologizing for a late cancellation due to a last-minute emergency on his part.

              Miroku approached her the next morning, as she set up the coffee machine before breakfast. He had been staying the night more and more frequently, now that he and Sango had finally figured things out, and Kagome knew it was only a matter of time before the two of them decided on their own roommate agreement.

              “Coffee?” he asked, forehead wrinkled in concern.

              “Can’t start my day without it,” she said lightly, and then gave him a wan smile. “The ofuda are still working,” she reassured him, but her voice stumbled a little. He eyed her in question. “I have a feeling that Naraku is trying to find a way around it, but so far, no dice.”

              “If that happens, we will figure something out,” he said, placing a comforting hand on her forearm. Kagome smiled weakly and reached for a pair of mugs to serve the steaming brew. “Up to anything interesting today?” he asked.

              She shook her head. “I was going to call my cousin…” She sighed.

              “You are troubled,” he intoned, assuming that placid and nonjudgmental expression that reminded her he was raised in a family of monks.

              Kagome’s hum of agreement vibrated through her chest. “Well, yeah. We’re going into arbitration.”

              Perhaps this raised his legal antenna. “Oh?”

              She explained the situation as Myouga-sensei had explained it to her. As the words left her lips, she felt newly awake to the danger of her position. ‘You must prepare yourself for the very likely reality that somebody will die’. _Well fuck me if I’m walking into **that** alone._ So, she finished her retelling with a question: “He said that I _should_ come alone, but… I was hoping that maybe I could ask if you would be willing to come with me?”

              Miroku looked taken aback for a moment. “Tomorrow?” She nodded in confirmation. He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee and drummed his fingers on the counter. “I would _like_ to be there for you –” he started, and Kagome had a sinking feeling in her chest, and braced herself in preparation for a letdown. “I’ll have to consult with my father first. I’ll see what I can do.”

              The sudden bubbling of hope in her chest surprised her nearly out of her skin. She touched her fingers to his forearm gently in thanks, and started on her morning joe.

              When she called Ichiro later that morning, she gave him the same explanation and asked him the same question. “Hold on,” was his response. “I’ll put you on speaker so Yura can join in.”

              “Kagome-chan?” came Yura’s lovely, lilting voice, though it sounded a little distant. “How are you holding up?”

              “I’m a little afraid, to be honest,” she said, leaning back in her desk chair and eyeing her peg-board, where her _Great Curse_ was pinned prominently in the middle. “Myouga-sensei said that someone was likely to die. With how things have been going… I mean…”

              “Stop that,” was Ichiro’s chastisement her for her pessimism.

              “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Yura said lightly. “You won’t be directly involved, being a human. I hope you understand, Kagome-chan, that this arbitration isn’t really about _you_.”

              Both a little surprised and a little affronted, Kagome’s brows furrowed as she squinted at the phone. “What do you mean?”

              “I mean – and no offense, love, but – do you think anyone would risk death over _just_ his, admittedly horrible, behavior to you? Again, no offense, but you’re just not _that_ important, lovie.” Kagome did not respond. “Kagome-chan, Naraku has been a poison since as far back as I remember. What has happened to you is not the worst of it; just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

              Struggling to swallow around the tightness in her throat, it took a moment for Kagome to respond. “So I’m just there for appearance’s sake?”

              “Well, you’re not _entirely_ there for show. He has to have ruffled the feathers of someone _very_ important for it to get to this point so quickly.”

              Kagome grunted. This statement supported her theory that Sesshoumaru’s pride had been affronted by Naraku’s unauthorized use of his image in her nightmares. She was assuming, by Myouga-sensei’s use of the honorific _-sama_ , that he was still a personage _‘of some influence’_ , as he had been back during the Sengoku Jidai. “I suppose that’s a relief,” she hedged, though she didn’t feel any better for Yura’s assurances.

              “So that’s a no, then?” Ichiro’s voice cut in, directed at Yura. He sounded anxious.

              “I know you want to step in and protect your darling little cousin, handsome. You know I can’t say no to you.” Kagome heard a wet sound, and imagined Yura must have given Ichiro a kiss to comfort his anxiety. “But you’re mistaken if I’m letting you go on your own, love.”

              He chuckled, his warm voice washing over Kagome through the phone. “Let me try and get the time off,” he said. Yura’s mocking laugh set him to grumbling, but Kagome hesitantly agreed with the reason for his girlfriend’s ridicule: The last time he had asked for time off to come and see her after her injury, his mother had refused, and he had been relegated to a position equivalent to a remote help desk, rather than being able to be there for her in person. There was little reason to suppose that Mariko-obaa-san would approve his taking off _now_ , especially with such short notice.

              Another sigh escaped Kagome’s parted lips. “Is there anything I can do to prepare for this? Any extra precautions I can take?”

              Yura’s tittering little laugh was of _some_ comfort, reassuring her that maybe things weren’t going to be as terrible as she was imagining them to be. “You’re going to be fine, lovie,” Yura said. “As much as that insect is a pestilence, he’s no more than a hanyou and a nuisance. Maybe the only thing you need to take with you is a little popcorn, so you can enjoy the show.”

              “Yura!” Ichiro hissed in reprimand, and she tittered again.

              “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I take _no_ pleasure in youkai on youkai violence, regardless of the parties involved,” she lied with much aplomb, earning her another hiss of censure.

              Kagome laughed, delighting in the display of informality and affection between them. She thanked them for their counsel and after brief farewells, they hung up. Drumming her fingers on her desk for a moment, she considered what to do next.

              But there was really only one thing that would ease her mind right now. And while usually, it would be a trip to the library, there was no way she could sit still enough to reap the benefits of being surrounded by books. Instead, she got to her feet, shrugged on her coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and put on her warmest boots.

              She was going to go and check out the promised location for their meeting.

              As she walked to the metro station to catch the twelve o’clock train, Kagome was much relieved when her phone chimed in with a message from Miroku. _I’m in_ , it said. Not more than a few seconds later, another message arrived, from her cousin this time. _We’ll be there. Our train gets in tonight around six. Will you be home?_

              She checked her watch. She should be just in time. _I’m checking out the meeting place this afternoon, but I should be back by then. Just in case, here’s Miroku’s number. He’s going with us too, and he can let you in the house._

              _Great, thanks,_ was Ichiro’s response. _Can you send me the meeting place details? I’ll ask Yura if she knows anything about it_.

              Kagome forwarded him Myouga-sensei’s email and set back off on her way with a huge burden lifted from her shoulders.

              It took just under two hours on public transit to get there. First the walk to the subway, then the connection to the special express train, and from there a bus that took her away from the town. It dropped her off on a remote country road, and there was another twenty minutes of walking until she found herself at the entrance of a neglected-looking public park. The signage was more or less grown over with vines, and though she was sure that in the summer, the greenery would block the sign entirely, barren of leaves it was cleared just enough to be legible. The snow-covered path through the gates was undisturbed.

              A little weary of leaving her footprints in such pristine snow, she hesitated at the gate for several minutes. Myouga-sensei’s email instructions, which she had been smart enough to screenshot, because she got no service out here, described a convoluted path into the park, which she wasn’t sure she wanted to try just at this moment, even having come so far.       

              She took in her surroundings. Past the gate, there was a worn path leading through a dense wood. The air was cold, but blessedly still, and soft sunlight peeked through the clouds above to glitter off of the snow blanket that covered the ground. She breathed a puff of hot air into her gloved hands and rubbed them together before pressing them to her cold cheeks. She sniffled, and, remembering she had brought some pocket warmers, pulled them out of her purse. Once unwrapped and crinkled enough to activate, she pushed them into her pockets and felt the warmth begin to radiate up into her chilled fingertips.

              _Okay_ , she thought. _Let’s do this_.

              Trudging through four or so inches of snow, Kagome ventured into the park. Once surrounded by trees, the still air and winter quiet settled in, broken only by the sound of the snow crunching under her boots. There was no bird-song, of course, it being winter, but the snow in every direction was unmarred by the movement of forest creatures. It was _too_ quiet – eerily so. The giant trees around her thinned out after five minutes of walking, and the path split as it broke out into a clearing. She glanced at the instructions on her phone: _Turn left. Then, when you pass the third cedar tree by the path, there should be a narrow trail cutting into the wood. Keep an eye out for a dark stone with a carving of a dog on it – when you see it, turn right through the brush._

              Kagome kept her eyes to the left, counting trees as she passed. Though the wood was dense, there were few cedars. The first two were cozy neighbors, branches reaching out to one another. She had to walk for several minutes more before she reached the third. Because of the snow, she couldn’t tell one way or another if there was a path or not, so, using the toe of her boot, she pushed the snow out of the way. Beneath it, there was in fact a difference in the quality of the forest floor here, with its well-trod earth clear of debris.

              She ducked below a tree branch as she changed course to follow the trail. Not far into the distance, she could see several rocks along the side of the path. These did not turn out to be the ‘black stone with a carving of a dog’, so she pressed onward. The brush began growing denser, and she was sure that in the summer time it would be nearly impassable. Eventually, as she pushed through the dried branches of another sleeping tree, she saw it: a large, glossy stone as high as her knee, in front of a hedge taller than she could see over. When she approached, the carving was prominent, at least twelve inches top to bottom – the portrait of a powerful canine figure at the summit of a mountain, howling up at a moon partially obscured by clouds. She traced it with rapidly chilling fingers, then tucked her hands back in her pockets to warm them.

              For a moment she stilled, and she felt as though time had stopped.

              The air stirred viciously around her, just for a second, lifting her hair off her shoulders and whipping it behind her, and then immediately calmed, until there was no wind at all. Not a single sound outside of her breathing and the beating of her heart carried through the wood. Kagome’s skin pebbled over with goosebumps, but not from the cold.

              Something was _wrong_.

              Shrugging off her reservations, she pushed through the brush, glancing at her phone once on the other side to read the remainder of the instructions. _Keep walking straight until you pass the pond. Make a left away from the clearing and walk until you hit the side of the mountain. This is the last step and the most important: follow the rock face about three hundred feet to the right. There is a prominence in the stone roughly the size of a tennis ball. Just beside it, there is a barrier. It will look like regular rock, but you must step through it. Beyond the barrier is where we meet._

              All around her, the forest was homogeneous and unperturbed, and she was sure that, if not for her footsteps in the snow, if she spun around in a circle three times, she would be hopeless of finding her way back. There was no clear path, with the snow obfuscating her view of the forest floor. Terrified of getting lost, Kagome kept her phone out and opened a compass app. She stepped forward, through the unmarked wood, checking to make sure she was still on course. It felt like forever before she saw it – the sunlight reflecting off the frozen surface of a pond about the size of her apartment. There was a stone bench beside the water’s edge, and Kagome imagined it must make a peaceful vignette in the spring or summertime, but seeing the manmade construction so deep into this forest, where there were no other signs of life, disturbed her.

              Kagome pressed her gloved hands to her face again, walking steadily until she passed the pond. She made a left turn away from the clearing beyond it, and saw, through the thicket, the shadow of a rock face. It was all uphill for the next several minutes until she finally reached it, huffing for breath a little more than she would admit to. Hand touching the frozen stone, Kagome paused in her progress once more.            

              What was it?

              The chill that had come over her earlier returned. _What is it?_ Something felt so decidedly unnatural about this place.

              Left hand on the rock, she began forward, counting her steps. Barren branches and winter veil aside, this place felt completely lifeless. The heaviness from the utter lack of movement in the air, the lack of _any noise whatever_ , made her skin crawl. She was alone out here.

              She should have had somebody come with her.

              When she counted three hundred, she glanced around at the stone. A little outside her reach, she saw an odd, round knob protruding from the mountainside, just as Myouga-sensei had said there would be. She sucked in a deep breath, approaching it slowly, anxiety mounting. Even before touching it, she could feel the energy radiating off the barrier that covered the gap in the stone. It was a decidedly and thankfully neutral sensation; not dripping with power how youki or reiki did, but instead, like a soft pressure against her body.

              She touched it, and her gloved hand bounced off the stone mirage. Perplexed, she tried to push against it, but found herself pushed back just as effortfully. Taking off her gloves, she tried again, to no avail.

              _Great_ , she thought. _Now what_?

              Kagome re-read the instructions he had sent. Alright. Alright. Just _step_ through it.

              She inhaled sharply and held her breath. Closing her eyes and scrunching up her face, she took one step back, and then launched her body forward. She opened her eyes just as she felt her foot break through the barrier, which melted away before her. She took in the vast expanse beyond it, a well-lit cavern the size of a superdome, with rocky, gravelly bottom, which upon looking closer…

              … was littered with…

              …Bones?

              Kagome’s breath seized in her throat as a cool hand clapped over her mouth. “Took you long enough,” came that all-too-familiar, silky male voice, dripping with venom. Then she felt it: a sudden rush of purple of youki cascaded over her, as though it had been bottled up and released – and in the next second, a blunt blow to the side of her head.

-+-

              Blinking blearily to regain focus, Kagome let out a pained moan. A dull throbbing on the side of her skull recalled her to where she was and to what had happened. She rolled over a little, coming to her side, and nearly lost the contents of her stomach to the roiling nausea that overcame her.

              “Awake at last,” came that terrible voice.

              She brought herself to her elbows, the rock and broken bone beneath her sharp even through the layers of clothing. She tried to reorient herself, organize her thinking. She needed to distract him, she decided, to buy herself some time to assess her options. “How…?” she started, then choked on another tide of bile rising into her mouth.

              “You’re always such a good student, always so prepared,” he mused, his voice echoing through the cavern and making it difficult to locate him. “I knew you’d come here in advance of our meeting. I was half-afraid you would come during class on Friday, so I’ve been here since then, waiting for you. And another four hours for you to wake up.” He chuckled darkly, and Kagome was finally able to fix on where he was sitting – on a ledge on the wall opposite her, a good distance away, some fifteen feet above the ground. “But don’t worry, Higurashi-kun. Neither of us will be here much longer.”

              There was an ominous tone in his voice that made her panic rise. Was he saying…?

              Shrouded in youki, like a mantle over his shoulders, he hopped down from his ledge and began his approach in a sauntering, cock-sure gait. He looked like a cat who’d got the cream; self-satisfied and smug, unconcerned with anything at all. Kagome realized how weak she must appear in his eyes, and this awareness hit her like a blow to the solar plexus.

              Because he wasn’t wrong. What could she really do to defend herself? Her reiki was unreliable, and she had no conscious control over it whatsoever.

              Struggling, she came to her knees, one hand tenderly touching her temple where he had struck her before. Her fingers came away sticky, cold, and red. She didn’t think she was still bleeding, at least. “What are you planning?” she croaked, trying desperately to gather her wits through the haze of pain in her head, and the fear coiling in her gut.

              “You should have _some_ idea, shouldn’t you, little one?” He stopped walking about five feet in front of her, jeering down at her. “Are you not my _prized_ pupil?”

              She shook her head a little, eyes squeezing shut. When she opened them, she blinked away the passing double vision and slowly pushed up into a standing position. His snickering as she swayed momentarily on her feet angered her, but she did her best to ignore it. She had to gain some sort of control over herself first, before she could figure out a way to escape this mess.

              She was alone. There was nothing she could do to call for help; there was no cell service out here. Even if she could get a message out, by some miracle, she was more than two hours away from rescue, assuming her friends could get on the very next train and all the connections lined up. And even then… what could they do? Yura was probably the only one who could be of any help, if Naraku got any _more_ aggressive…

              She was well and truly alone.

              Kagome looked up at him, face set with lines of defiance. “You want the Shikon no Tama.”

              “Among other things,” he laughed.

              She ignored that, instead adjusting her stance to a more defensive position. “You won’t get what you want,” she declared.

              “Oho!” His eyebrows rose and eyes widened. “What baseless bravery!” He waggled his finger at her in admonition. “That won’t do, my dear. You know what we are. You should _feel_ it, then.” The weight of his youki crashed over her like an ocean tide, and her lungs ached as she struggled to breathe. For a moment, she was seized with terror. She had never felt anything like this. “And if you _feel_ it, you should _know_. I am a _very_ powerful youkai,” he intoned.

              “Don’t you mean hanyou?” she antagonized, voice choking out of her throat around the miasma that filled her lungs.

              “Yes, yes, strictly speaking,” he dismissed, not taking the bait. “But infinitely more powerful than the peons out there in the world,” he paused, as though remembering, and a giggle erupted from his mouth. “I may not have had the Shikon’s power to borrow, but I have found _other_ ways of attaining the power I seek.” His red eyes, wide and shining wildly, fixed on her.

              “How?” she asked, more interested in keeping him talking than in hearing his response. She was trying to figure out where she was in relation to the exit. The barrier made the hole in the rock invisible, and though she could feel its presence, it was impossible to hone in on it with Naraku’s youki running interference.

              The bone crunched under his feet as he approached her, and he tapped her nose with a forefinger, leaning in and sneering into her face. “I merely did what I did to become a hanyou in the first place. I absorbed demon after demon into my body and took their power for my own.” He dropped his hand and wandered away from her, apparently reveling in the opportunity to boast about himself. “In the process, I have also attained a variety of talents. Your dreams being a newer acquisition,” he lilted, but then a furrow came over his brow.

              In two quick steps he was before her again, frowning into her face, the crazed gleam still shining in his eyes. “You’ve managed to block me out of your dreams though, recently,” his voice was deceptively soft, coaxing. “How did you manage that? Do tell.”

              She backed away from him, calves straining a little as the gravel below her shifted with her weight. As she approached the wall she could better feel the presence of the barrier, and realized that he hadn’t moved her from where he had first struck her down. _The exit is just there_ , she thought, fighting the hope rising in her heart. _Just behind me!_

              Even though she could escape this cavern, she knew he would be right behind her once she was outside. But the knowledge itself felt like a step closer to freedom. “I have a friend,” she said, struggling to answer him and not lose the thread of conversation because of her internal planning. “He’s a monk,” she embellished, “and had some ofuda that did the trick.”

              The cruel twist of Naraku’s lips as he approached her made her heart stutter. “Hmmmm…” He fisted his hand into the front of her coat and pulled her roughly up and toward him, so that her tiptoes barely touched the ground. “Do you have any reason to expect him to join us tonight, little one?”

              Kagome couldn’t decide if she should say yes or no – it had been four hours since he’d knocked her out, so it must be around six, and Miroku or Ichiro or both would have found her missing by now, but –  but his shaking her roughly once more made her spit an answer out and damn the consequences. “No,” she said, hoping in her heart of hearts that they had noticed her absence and had left to find her. If she could just hold on for two more hours…

              He looked at her askance but set her back down on her feet. Still holding her by her coat with one hand, he smoothed her hair from her face with the other. He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief, which he dabbed gently against the blood that dried on her skin. “Dogs have sensitive noses,” he murmured this non-sequitur, an expression mocking tenderness in his eyes. “We’re going to leave an exciting story for him to sniff out, you and I, for when he comes tomorrow.”

              “Why would _he_ come tomorrow?” she puzzled, too taken aback by that tidbit to process the intent behind the rest of his words.

              “Oh, you silly little girl,” Naraku cooed. “You thought it was _Myouga_ coming to represent your interests? That doddering, senile flea wouldn’t last a second.”

_“I – Will it really be just the three of us at the meeting?”_

_He raised his bushy white eyebrows and rearranged himself in his chair. “Yes,” he said, drawing the word out as though it needed qualifying._

              But he had never specified _which three_ ‘us’ included; she had just assumed.

              “No,” Naraku was saying, still tutting over her in the farce of a mother hen. “Sesshoumaru is much more suited to the task. And though he bested me back then, he has grown indolent in the last several hundred years, while _I_ have been growing stronger.” Apparently finally satisfied with his grooming of her face and hair, he tossed his bloodied handkerchief over his shoulder. “I have no doubt that I could easily topple him if it came to blows, but there’s no call for that, is there?” He looked around them before returning his gaze pointedly to Kagome’s eyes. Slowly he leaned in, breath puffing against her cheek as he whispered, “As he is not here.”

Kagome shuddered.

              He pulled back. “No,” he said loftily. “You and I will leave a delicious story behind for him. And when he comes to find you, you will be much out of his reach.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, and she jerked her face away from him. “Fitting punishment for him, for wanting what is mine. What he can never have.”

              A violent urge to rebel filled her, and ignoring what she knew she _should do_ – stay quiet – she spat at him instead, “What he’s _already_ had.”

              Naraku’s face set immediately into a grim frown, and he reared his arm back before backhanding her at full force. Kagome hurtled toward the ground, skin on her palms shredding against broken bones and sharp stone, as she used her hands to cushion her fall. The pounding in her head, which had begun to subside before, was back now, full force. Her neck and her cheek ached, and her eye felt as though it might explode. She touched her chilled fingers to her throbbing cheek, sucking in a pained gasp.

              “You,” he growled, “are a hopeless self-saboteur. I was going to make this _easy_ for you.” He squatted beside her and yanked at a fistful of her hair, raising her head to bring her eye-level with him. “I just want to be _kind_ to you, and you _make me do this_.”

              Kagome gritted her teeth, turned her eyes away from him. Under what delusion was this monster operating? She pushed herself up a little to take the strain off her scalp from where he was tugging on her hair. What else could she do? Her _life_ was in danger, and she was powerless in front of this beast. Where was her reiki when she needed it?

              The hard lines of Naraku’s face relaxed a little as he sat there, looking at her. “So beautiful,” he purred, releasing his hold and running his fingers through the hair he had been gripping. “I’ll give you one more chance,” his voice had the tone of one convinced in their own benevolence. “Behave, and things will go much smoother. Imagine writing a romance with me for him to read, rather than a tragedy. There,” he cooed, watching her eyes widen. “Does that help?”

              Bitter at her weakness, but willing to do anything in the name of self-preservation, Kagome nodded slightly. Relief made her body sag as Naraku removed himself from her once more. She cooled her cheek with her fingers once more, then laboriously got back up on her feet. Was there really nothing she could do to help herself out of this?

              But no matter what plans she conjured in her head, it always boiled down to this: assuming she could get away from him and out of the cave, she did not know the way well enough – she could not escape him for long: she would get lost, and he, with his superior senses, would find her easily. In this remote park, with not a living soul around, he would do what he pleased, and then kill her.

              And there was nothing she could do to stop him.

              “Come here,” he called out over his shoulder, unconcerned by her to the point that he could turn his back on her without hesitation.

              Slowly, grudgingly, she stepped forward, walking after him.

              Maybe, if she could release enough reiki to incapacitate him, she would be able to make her escape. But this was contingent on her having any kind of control over her spiritual energy, which she did not. She didn’t have any weapons on her – and was sure that even if she _had_ , he likely checked her for weapons while she was unconscious.

              Naraku stopped walking about midway into the giant cavern, then turned and faced the direction of the entrance, invisible due to the presence of the barrier. He brushed his wild, inky hair behind his shoulder, then motioned for Kagome to join him where he stood. His eyes narrowed when she did not hurry her pace, but otherwise he was still, hand extended as he waited for her.

              When she stood before him, he reached out with an ‘allow me’, and tugged downward on the zipper of her coat. He helped her out of it, tossing it aside as he turned her to face the exit. “Imagine, if you will, the look of smug superiority on his face, as he comes in tomorrow...” his hands came to her shoulders, gently rubbing them over the fabric of her sweater, her skin crawling at his indirect caress. Tears of impotence and frustration filled her eyes, and she squeezed them and her lips tightly closed, willing him to disappear or drop dead or _something_. “…expecting to have me prostrated before him in defeat, and you eager to jump into his valorous arms. When here we are now, together…” He chuckled darkly.

              When his grip on her shoulders tightened momentarily and his hands began trailing down her arms, Kagome’s eyes snapped open.

              _Not like this_.

              There was no chance of escape.

              She knew that.

              And he would kill her when he was done with her. She knew that too.

              So if there was no hope, then _fuck it all_ , she would go down fighting. Not like this. She would _not go down like this_.

              His fingers had insinuated themselves to the hem of her sweater, and he was slowly pushing the fabric upward. Anger and humiliation and hopelessness and fear mixed together in the cauldron of her heart, and her skin flushed red with rage. She hesitated for just a moment, only long enough to decide on the best course of action, and then turned in his embrace, pushing with everything she had against his chest.

              She watched in satisfaction for a split second as his eyes widened in disbelief of her brazen rejection, and then make a break for it.

              Time seemed to move in slow motion.

              Each step she took echoed like a thunderclap in her head, her calves burning as the debris that made up the ground shifted beneath the force of each footfall. Quadriceps like rocket engines, she sprung forward, using each step to explode forward and put as much distance between them as possible.

              Four steps.

              She made it four steps before she heard the sound of his body hitting the ground. One more step, and the sound of him coming to his feet reached her.

              Four more steps.

              That was as far as she got.

              Not even half-way to the exit.

              A blow to the middle of her back catapulted her forward, and the air knocked out of her lungs when her chest made contact with the ground. A long, shuttering gasp in, and she couldn’t breathe. She wheezed out, painfully, trying to move her diaphragm. She turned over onto her back and found some relief – only for his shadow to fall over her. From within the darkness that obscured his face, his glowing red eyes shined out at her. He tilted his chin just enough for the light to illuminate his widening, crazed sneer.

              “Like I said,” his harsh voice trembling with a hint of madness, as though he was barely in control of himself. His domineering youki bore down on her, and a tide of nausea washed over her. “Self-saboteur.”

*

              He stepped astride her, one foot planted on either side of her hips. She was still battling to regulate her shallow panting, and pinched her eyes closed to block the sight of him out while she struggled for control.

              In the space of one breath, she felt the warmth of his body over hers, the weight of him as he pressed down on her shoulders. His hot breath puffed on her cheek.

              Kagome’s eyes shot open, and her heart nearly stopped beating at the intensity of his lava-like gaze on her face. He was a hair’s breadth away from her, his lips hovering over hers.

              “Perhaps it’s time to end this tug-of-war between us, mm?” he mocked, moving his hands down her arms and pinning her down by her wrists.

              His cold lips crushed over hers, his hot, wet tongue attempting to pry her lips open. She writhed, shaking her head from side to side to try and avoid him, but he seemed to enjoy this little chase, and bore his pelvis down over hers, grinding into her.

              He pulled away from her lips just long enough to moan as he trembled over her, burying his head into her neck for a moment before he launched his mouth back at hers.

              Kagome tried to bring her legs up to kick him away, but his powerful frame had her well and truly trapped beneath him. Youki still heavy over them like a shroud, her nausea not abating, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, and the cooling saliva coating it coaxed a gag out of her. Stomach hurtling into her throat, she tried to recoil from his advance. She gagged again as he thrust his tongue forward once more, as though enjoying her revulsion.

              “Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he groaned into her hair, “then I’ll give you something else to gag on.”

              Kagome bit her lip so hard she drew blood. This elicited a delighted little giggle from the monster above her, and he tenderly took his tongue to lapping up the fresh flow.

*

              She felt the grip of his hand change, wrapping fully around her wrist, and saw an opening.

              Like most women of her age, she had taken a number of self-defense seminars. Though she had never expected to really need the knowledge, she had done her best to commit certain things to memory: the fact that stood out now was that to break a wrist hold, one should twist their arm forcefully toward the thumb [1].

              Though the space between them was limited, and despite the fact that he was bearing weight on that hand, she was desperate enough to try anything.

              With all the force she could manage, Kagome pushed her arm to the inside, just enough to knock him off balance sufficiently to give her the room she needed to work. She jabbed her elbow toward him and then wrenched her wrist out of his grip.

              “ _Get off_!” She screamed, using her freed hand to push him bodily away from her. The second her hand connected with his chest, she felt it. The rush of those hot tingles to her fingertips, that familiar feeling of a release of reiki.

              It wasn’t enough to truly damage him, but with the force of her push and the surprise of her attack, his torso righted, removing from her completely, though his pelvis and legs remained fixed in place over and around her. The astonishment in his eyes and slackened jaw pleased her, but she wasn’t foolish enough to view this small concession of space between them as a victory.

              The air still smelled like ozone – the scent of her reflexive reiki.

              She propped herself up on her elbow and thrust her hand out again, aiming for the bottom of his sternum, trying to wind him. “Get. Off.” She spat, and launched her fist – thumb outside her curled fingers, so as not to break it – at him.

              It made contact, and he made a delightful sound, the plosion of a forced exhalation, but to her crushing disappointment, there was no reiki to back her attack this time. He tightened his legs around her as she struggled to wriggle out from under him, and within the space of a blink, he loomed dangerously over again.

              The look of bewilderment in his eyes as he regarded her, perhaps as though seeing her for the first time, made her still for the briefest moment. Had he not known what she was? “If I must destroy you before I have you, I will,” he ground out, “as long as you’re warm, the rest doesn’t matter.”

              Horror clouded her vision, and he descended on her. Kagome thrashed her head from side to side, bucking her body desperately, screwing her eyes closed, refusing to give up the fight, refusing to give in to her fear.

              “Gh!”

              The startled, choked sound from above her made her pause, and she squeaked open one eye to see Naraku’s head tilted back, the muscles in his neck straining.

              All around her, the curtain of his miasma seemed to dissipate into nothing, only to be replaced by the oppressive, portentous weight of the densest youki she had ever felt. It was suffocating in its intensity, bearing down on her like the world on Atlas’s shoulders. Through its colossal heft, though, Kagome could feel how intimately _familiar_ it was.

              “That’s _enough,_ ” came a smooth, _safe_ masculine voice, casting a soothing spell over her.

              Sesshoumaru!

              How had he known to come?

              Hand still gripping Naraku by his hair, Sesshoumaru removed Naraku’s body from hers, forcefully, casting him aside as though he were no more than a feather.

              Kagome scrambled to her feet immediately, eyes desperately seeking the face of her saviour.

              He was before her as she had never seen him.

              He wore white hakama and white hankimono, decorated by a red hexagonal pattern with sakura flowers, a breastplate with a spiked, terrifying shoulder-piece over one shoulder and a large white pelt over the other, and three swords at his hip. Long silver hair framed his body, unrestrained and floating on the air on the currents of his electric green power. His usually elegant features were finer than she had ever seen them – elongated ear tips peeping out through the mass of his silken tresses, cheekbones more refined and delicate than they had ever been. His eyes, before a warm amber, were a blazing gold now, and framed by magenta tint. Cheeks too, so pale and smooth before, were marked with magenta stripes. His broad and usually clear brow, now decorated with a blue crescent moon.

              Aotsuki. Blue moon. _Of course._

              Kagome looked up at him in awe, unable to process much of anything aside from his staggering beauty and the starkness of the stoicism in his face as he regarded her from the corner of his eyes. She had thought herself accustomed to reading his expression a little, seeing the small signs that taught her his inner feelings; but now, his face was a placid mask of unconcern, so above the agitated emotions boiling over inside of her that he seemed almost alien.

              There was not a shred of humanity in him at all.

              His golden gaze travelled over her, as though assessing her condition. It took in her absence of coat, the rent material of her shirt and rent skin on her palms, the blood on her lip and matting up her hair, the swollen and bruising cheek from where Naraku had struck her. His nostrils flared minutely, and for a fraction of a second, his eyes widened.

              He turned his back to her then, facing his opponent, who was now coming to his feet at the base of the wall opposite them, where Sesshoumaru had flung him only moments ago. Though his eyes were forward, what he said next was for her.

              “You have done well,” came his emotionless murmur, just loud enough to reach her ears. “Stay back.”

              Kagome blinked, and he was no longer before her, but across the large expanse of the cavern, facing down a harried-looking Naraku.

              She staggered backwards automatically, moving to position herself as close to the barrier to the outside as she could manage, but there was nothing that would induce her feet to turn and propel her to the outside and to her escape. Instead, her eyes were fixed forward, watching the silent confrontation that was taking place across the distance. She couldn’t leave. She needed to see this through.

              Sesshoumaru’s voice carried throughout the cavern, it’s ferocity reverberating through the walls despite how lowly he spoke. “ _Cur_.”

              Naraku, now on his feet and having regained his composure, tossed his head and barked out a laugh. “A fine insult, coming from a dog.” He crossed his arms over his chest, affecting an air of superiority. “You’re showing your true colors, Sesshoumaru. What could have brought you here except that girl?” He laughed at length this time. “Three for three. It truly runs in your family, this love of humans, doesn’t it?”

              Sesshoumaru’s silence surprised her. From this angle, she could see the two of them nearly in profile – more of Naraku’s face than Sesshoumaru’s – but she perceived his total indifference in the face of Naraku’s taunting.

              One foot shifting forward, Naraku assumed more of a ready stance, though his arms and face were still relaxed. Behind him, the darkness swirled and congealed, and long black shapes like the tentacles in her dream projected from the shadows. Sesshoumaru, by contrast, was upright and perfectly still, as though not involved in any kind of confrontation at all.

              “I can’t fault your taste though,” Naraku continued, as though Sesshoumaru was paying any heed to his shit-talking at all. He glanced over at Kagome, red eyes sharpened, sneer widening. “She’s a ripe little morsel.”

              Again, Sesshoumaru neither moved nor dignified this jeering with a response. His face was calm and unperturbed, eyes watchful but dispassionate. He was waiting for Naraku to strike first, she realized, and Naraku was trying to manipulate him into attacking.

              “Granted, you _know_ her better than I do,” Naraku continued, glinting red eyes hard, shoulders tense. “Though that’s about to change.”

              No response.

              Naraku’s sneer became tense, as though Sesshoumaru’s unconcern were goading him to action. He glanced at her once more and his brow smoothed, some kind of decision made. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

              He pivoted, and the moment he angled his body toward Kagome, Sesshoumaru’s fingers curled, and a long green whip shot from his hand, slicing through and snapping loudly in the air before Naraku and stopping his progress. Kagome could smell the acrid, noxious scent from where she stood, so strong was its odor.

              _But, poison?_ Kagome puzzled. _How does a dog…?_

              Naraku turned toward Sesshoumaru, whose hand had relaxed back to his side, though the poison whip still dangled from his fingertips. Perhaps he felt corralled, or maybe he felt underestimated as Sesshoumaru made no effort to do anything but control his movement; but the levity in Naraku’s laughing eyes dissipated, and his eyebrows drew down over raging eyes.

              The air crackled with energy as the two stared each other down.

              Kagome saw the look of sudden impatience on Naraku’s features for a fleeting moment.

              “I’d say that’s enough playing around,” he said, gnashing his teeth together. His dark youki flooded around him, then shot out in every direction, filling the cavern in a thick fog near up to Kagome’s knees. The ground below them began to tremble. Bits of bone and rock, vibrating with energy, propelled upwards, floating in the air.

              His feet separated themselves from the ground as he too began to levitate. His eyes sparkled with violence as he looked at the motionless youkai before him. “Things have changed since the last time!” He roared. On that tremendous shout, Naraku lunged at his opponent, so fast Kagome could barely follow him, purple tendrils of energy jetting from fingertips like shimmering blades.

              He struck at Sesshoumaru, who blocked with a glowing green hand, and the force of the impact exploded the shattered debris on the cavern floor, sending it flying in every direction.

              Kagome covered her face and curled in on herself, struck by three or four of the errant projectiles, and nearly lost her footing. The moment the onslaught stopped, she uncovered her eyes, and desperately sought the figures of the two battling youkai.

              They were moving so quickly, she could never quite focus on them before they had sprung out of her field of vision once more. Two currents of youki filled the room, a fluorescent green and a shimmering purple, which, like the youkai that created them, danced about one another, clashing and separating, setting the stone about them trembling.

              She heard the sound of a crash, and turned her head just in time to see Naraku spring forward from the earth where he had fallen, black tentacles surrounding him, sharpened and poised to attack. Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed, and his whip re-emerged, dicing the tentacles; in the next second, he reached to his hip and drew a white-handled sword from the white scabbard at his hip. He swung the blade, and a wave of green youki blasted toward his opponent.

              She couldn’t see beyond the green wave, but in the space of a breath, a purple orb broke through it, shattering just as it cleared the youki, revealing Naraku who was clutching his shoulder where his arm had been severed. Kagome’s heart and breath stilled in her chest as she watched sickly white flesh rippled outward, covering newly forming muscle and bone as a new limb regenerated from the wound. The putrid scent of blood and decay reached her nose from this distance.

              “Hn,” came Sesshoumaru’s first, typically unimpassioned, utterance since the fight had begun. He did not wait for Naraku to attack first – faster than Kagome could process, he jumped forward, deadly blade at the ready. He slashed downward.

              Naraku parried, a spike of flesh extending from his hand to block the blow. The flesh was enough to push away the blow, but rather than being cut by the edge of Sesshoumaru’s sword, it started a rapid decay until it crumbled away from Naraku’s body. Sesshoumaru struck again, and again, and Naraku, huffing now, continued to block and parry with various, quickly rotting horns and spikes and tentacles that he jettisoned one after another from his flesh.

              Eyes wild, Naraku struck at Sesshoumaru once more, blade-like tentacle clashing with sword.

              The shockwave of force from the impact knocked Kagome to her knees with a small “Eep!” that grew louder as it echoed through the room. Trembling fingers wrested the Shikon no Tama from underneath the collar of her shirt, clutching around it for comfort.

              Two pairs of eyes swiveled to look at her, then back to the opponent at hand. Naraku released a screeching laughter and struck at Sesshoumaru once more, accompanying the blow with an explosion of searing youki. It pushed Sesshoumaru off and he staggered back one step, then another, before regaining his composure.

              But by then, the tide of battle had turned.

              Desperation and reckless in his mad, red eyes, Naraku had crossed the distance between him and Kagome before she had the time to hitch in a breath.

              His clawed hand, purple with miasma, reached for her.

_You must prepare yourself, Higurashi-kun, for the very likely reality that somebody will die._

              Time slowed.

              Kagome squeezed her eyes shut, reaching with one hand to ward him off. The fount of power within her swelled and pulsed.

 _Stay away_ , her heart cried, _Stay. Away!_

              A dam burst within her.

              Her eyes opened just in time to see Naraku’s claw plunge into her chest, through skin, muscle, and bone, reaching for her heart – at the very same moment – a wash of pink reiki rocketed through her veins to overflow from her fingertips in an explosion of phenomenal force.

              His body flew away from hers, hand ejected forcefully from her chest.

              Kagome toppled backwards.

              She wheezed, blood gurgled from her mouth. Chest wall moving rapidly and ineffectually, she couldn’t draw breath. She tried to look down to assess the damage, but her vision was growing dark.

              She heard a groan – Naraku’s voice – and the crunching of bone, growing louder and closer as – was it Sesshoumaru? – approached in an unhurried pace.

              Kagome blinked blearily, trying to focus on his face through the haze. “Se—” she tried, but there was no strength in her left to finish it. She reached for him, or tried to, and vaguely saw him look down, away from her face, toward his hip.

              “Se—” she tried again, but the blood flooding her mouth choked her into silence. She blinked, but once her lids lowered, had no energy left to open her eyes. _Sesshoumaru_ , she thought, desperate to say the seven words on the tip of her tongue.

              But she couldn’t.

              _Sesshoumaru_ , she begged, just before her chest stilled with the final beat of her heart.

             

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knoooooooow. I know. I know. I am a cruel and heartless person and I deserve to be punished. Can you forgive me? You will next chapter. I promise.
> 
> Only one more true chapter to go before the epilogue. I ask again: any questions you have left unanswered? Any theories you want to share? Let me have it, lovely readers!!
> 
> Expect Chapter 17, the final chapter before the epilogue, on 5/11 or 12!
> 
>  
> 
> Footnotes:
> 
> [1] True, and a technique everyone should know. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwrkCGCHfXQ


	17. 縁談 Marriage Proposal: It will not come. Part I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to answer all of your questions within the text of the story! I know that since chapter updates are so spaced out, some of the details were easier to forget, but hopefully this clears it all up.
> 
> ALSO I had LITERALLY TWO BULLET POINTS to fulfill in this chapter, but making them happen turned out to take forever. So I split Chapter Seventeen into two. Worry not. Chapter 18 will be up 5/17.  

 

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Seventeen

縁談 Marriage Proposal: It will not come. Part I.

A wash of light from behind her eyelids filled Kagome’s vision. Her lashes fluttered, but before she could open them, a cool hand pressed to her forehead, covering her eyes and keeping her still. “You little idiot.” She recognized the voice, a male voice, but was too fatigued to place it. The hand brushed her hair from her forehead tenderly. She felt a shift below her, realizing then that she was lying on a bed, before she heard the voice call out, “Yura, she’s awake.”

              Ahh. So it was Ichiro.

              Slowly, she opened her eyes. Above her, a white-painted ceiling. She turned her head to find her cousin sitting beside her on the bed, eyes gentle, relieved. Kagome looked past him around the room, to the bookcases in their disarray, the men’s jacket hanging on the back of a chair… She jolted awake. She recognized her surroundings. _This is—_

              Ichiro’s hand pushed gently on her shoulder to lay her back down as he tutted and shook his head. “Stay still, Kagome-chan. You’re not – take it easy for a minute, okay?” He stood, moving to lean against the wall.

              Yura came bustling into the room then, a small kit with a red cross in hand, and closed the door once more behind her. “How are you feeling?” she asked, looking fondly down at Kagome before she settled beside her on the bed.

              Kagome shook her head. Her head was fogging again her thinking fuzzy. “I’m fine, I think…” she tried to focus. “What happened?”

              Yura pulled a thermometer from the first aid kit and motioned for Kagome to open her mouth. “What do you remember?” The thermometer beeped and she plucked it from Kagome’s mouth to study the numbers. “No fever.”

              Kagome’s eyes drifted closed, trying to think backwards. How had she gotten here? She had been in the park, and… Her eyes snapped open and she jumped into a sitting position.

              She remembered. Everything.

              Naraku.

              Sesshoumaru, showing up in the nick of time.

              But too late to stop Naraku from…

              But when she looked down at her chest, covered in a white button-down shirt, there was nothing amiss. She peeked under the collar of the blouse, and though mortified that she was devoid of a bra, saw nothing but pristine skin, entirely intact. “But…” she looked up at Yura, then to Ichiro, who had judiciously turned away during her self-examination. She glanced around the room again, to confirm her surroundings. She was in Sesshoumaru’s room, that was certain. “What…?”

              Yura placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and repeated, “What do you remember?”

              Kagome blinked. “I went to the park,” she started, reliving the crunch of snow under her feet, the stillness of the air. “I could tell – there was something wrong, I knew it, but – I went to the meeting place.”

              Ichiro’s lips pinched closed, as though holding back a rebuke, but he gave in the very next second. “If you felt so concerned – if you could feel that it wasn’t right, why didn’t you turn around?” His voice seemed choked, as though he could barely talk around his feelings.

              Kagome gulped down some air. “I should have turned around,” she agreed, “I should have. I just thought, I had already come all that way. I wanted to see it through. I thought I was being paranoid.” Her shoulders slumped, and Yura squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. “I thought – I thought I should _tenaciously do my best_ ,” she ground out. “I was tired of letting things _happen_ around me. I was trying to take back some control. I didn’t think—” she stuttered, eyes falling to her fingers tangled in her lap. “I _knew_ he was evil, of course. But I don’t think it had sunk in _how evil_ , really. I mean… I knew he killed Kagura, but a part of me... But I didn’t understand the depths of his… I’ve never encountered… I…”

Yura shushed her, bring her other hand to caress Kagome’s face and help her to find her calm. “This world is entirely new to you,” she cooed. “How could you know to what lengths he would go?”

              “So you kept going,” Ichiro said, voice soft now, conciliatory. “What next?”

              The soft squeeze of Yura’s hand on her shoulder encouraged Kagome to continue. “Naraku was there.” She shuddered, tore her eyes away from Yura, pinched them closed. “He attacked me. And then…”

                _All around her, the curtain of his miasma seemed to dissipate into nothing, only to be replaced by the oppressive, portentous weight of the densest youki she had ever felt. It was suffocating in its intensity, bearing down on her like the world on Atlas’s shoulders. Through its colossal heft, though, Kagome could feel how intimately familiar it was._

_“That’s enough,” came a smooth, safe masculine voice, casting a soothing spell over her. Hand still gripping Naraku by his hair, Sesshoumaru removed Naraku’s body from hers, forcefully, casting him aside as though he were no more than a feather._

_His golden gaze travelled over her, taking in her absence of coat, the rent material of her shirt and rent skin on her palms, the blood on her lip and matting up her hair, the swollen and bruising cheek from where Naraku had struck her. His nostrils flared minutely, and for a fraction of a second, his eyes widened. He turned his back to her then, facing his opponent, who was now coming to his feet at the base of the wall opposite them, where Sesshoumaru had flung him only moments ago. Though his eyes were forward, what he said next was for her._

_“You have done well,” came his emotionless murmur, just loud enough to reach her ears. “Stay back.”_

“Sesshoumaru came.” Somehow, he had come. Kagome swallowed, remembering how in an instant, he had turned that unsurmountable fear into blissful relief. Even if, having shed his human skin, she could barely recognize him, she had known at least that she was safe. Except…

              “They fought,” she continued. “And then Naraku…” her hand clutched at her chest, where she was _certain_ that he had plunged his hand through bone and flesh, reaching for her heart. “And then I…” Her breath hitched as she remembered, pleading in her mind, the blood gurgling from her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she turned her gaze to her cousin, stricken. “Did I… did I die…?”

              Yura wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly.

              This was all the confirmation Kagome needed, and she sucked in a breath of disbelief. “So then how…?”

              Ichiro advanced, moving to sit beside the two women on the bed, and laid his hand on Kagome’s back, moving in reassuring circles. She heard his breath stop a few times, as though he was starting to speak and then changed his mind about what he was going to say. “We tried to get through to you, to let you know that we had gotten an earlier train. We figured you were out of cell service, so we waited. With the train schedules we expected to get a hold of you on your way back, around three. When we still couldn’t get a hold of you after three thirty, we reached out to Myouga-san.”

              “Myouga-sensei?”

              “You sent us his email, remember?” Ichiro said, voice still level and calm. “I just wanted to get an estimate from him about how long it would take to find the place, look around and come back, so I called him. But he… was very concerned when he heard you’d been gone so long.”

              “He said Naraku had been missing since Friday,” Yura piped in, voice muffled from where it was pressed against Kagome’s shoulder, arms still tightly wound around her back. “And that it was far past time for you to start heading back.”

              “So we changed routes,” Ichiro continued. “We switched trains and went to the park. Luckily, we weren’t too far. Myouga-san said he would call reinforcements for us. When we reached the cave, Sesshoumaru-san was already there.”

              “So Myouga-sensei…”

              “He called Sesshoumaru-sama the second we got off the phone,” Yura confirmed, squeezing a little tighter.

              “We got there just in time to see…” Ichiro’s hand stopped moving over her back, and he fell quiet.

              Kagome gently detached herself from Yura, who was sniffling, eyes red and watery, and turned around to look at her cousin. He was in no better a state. She reached out to take his hand, and he immediately pulled her to him in a hug. Yura scooted in behind her and wrapped her arms around the two of them.

              “He’s really something,” Ichiro said, voice choked. “He has a sword – it can bring the dead to life.” Kagome stiffened in their hold, but Ichiro plowed onward, not letting her interrupt. “He cut away the spirits of the underworld that were trying to take you. Naraku was—you did quite a number on him, Kagome-chan… I’ve never seen – I mean, that was _such incredible_ _power_ , and it was a wonder he was still alive after all that, even just barely. But Sesshoumaru-san took care of the rest of him, and then he brought us all back here.” He buried his nose in Kagome’s hair, smooshing her face against his chest.

              “You were like a ghost,” Yura murmured, but her mouth was close enough to Kagome’s ear for her to hear. “Even though the sword healed the wound when it brought you back, you were white like a ghost. And there was so much blood… we worried you would never wake up.”

              “How long have I been out?” Kagome asked, half in a daze, attempting to process this overload of information.

              “Six hours,” Ichiro sighed. “It felt like forever. We really thought… I thought we’d lost you.”

              The room fell silent around them once more, with the exception of Yura’s periodic sniffling. Kagome’s head was spinning. She had died and been resurrected. _Died_. She tried to remember what that was like – but she couldn’t remember much after she had closed her eyes.

_‘Sesshoumaru’, she thought, desperate to say the seven words on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn’t. ‘Sesshoumaru’, she begged, just before her chest stilled with the final beat of her heart._ _And then, nothing._

_Ah_ , she gasped, as it started coming back to her. She still had to tell him what she had tried so hard to say. But— “Where is he?”

              Kagome hadn’t realized she’d spoken this thought aloud until the two holding her so tightly slowly began to disengage themselves from her. She looked at Ichiro first, then Yura. They avoided her gaze, instead glancing at each other, concern on their features.

              “He’s outside,” Yura said at length. _Ah. So he heard this whole conversation_ , Kagome mused. “He… wasn’t certain you’d want to see him.”

              Kagome startled. “What? Of _course_ I want to see him,” she said. She still had to tell him –

              A knock sounded on the door. Ichiro and Yura glanced at each other once more. Ichiro stood, held his hand out to Yura, and she too got to her feet. “I think – it’s late. It’s a little soon to move you. If you’re okay here, we’ll head back to your place to get some sleep. Unless you – do you need us to stay?”

              Vaguely, Kagome felt a vibration skittering across her skin, and realized that on the other side of the door, Sesshoumaru must be growling.

              The furrowing of Ichiro’s eyebrows increased.

              Kagome shook her head slowly. “I’ll be okay, I think,” she said. The growling stopped.

              The doorknob turned and the door clicked open, but Ichiro pushed it closed again immediately. The growling on the other side resumed. “If you need anything, we’re just a phone call and a few blocks away.” He paused. “ _Anything_ , Kagome-chan. If you need to leave, I’ll pick you up and carry you home. Understand?”

              She nodded.

              He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, eyes never straying from her.

              “Yura-san, Ichiro-kun…” she said, eyes flooding with tears for a moment. “ _Thank you so much_.”

              They launched themselves at her, wrapping her in the warmth of their combined embrace once more. For what felt like an eternity, they sat there, arms entwined, tears flowing freely. Eventually, Ichiro and Yura pulled away. They took each other by the hand and made their way to the door. “Anything at all,” he murmured over his shoulder, and she nodded again.

              They let themselves out.

              She heard them walk across the living room, then heard two low male voices in a brief exchange. Yura’s voice chimed in briefly. In the distance, a door opened, then closed.

              They had gone.

              Kagome straightened her shirtfront and smoothed the sheets where they lay over her lap. She combed her fingers through her hair to bring it to some semblance of order, and then touched them to her cheek, marveling that it felt just like normal, rather than swollen and bruised as it had been after Naraku struck her.

              She scooted back and leaned against the headboard of the bed for support, then smoothed the sheets around her once more.

              Still, all was quiet.

              Had he not been about to barge into the room just a minute before? Kagome sighed.

              A minute passed. Then one more.

              Kagome heard footsteps. She straightened.

              When Sesshoumaru entered the room, it was the Sesshoumaru from the cavern, complete with a placid expression highlighted by facial markings, and form draped in his traditional attire, though he had eschewed the armor and the large white pelt. He stopped in the doorway, regarding her, and again, she could read nothing in his expression.

              Kagome stared, unabashed. She marveled at this otherworldly being before her. Again, the thought struck her. There was not a shred of humanity in him at all.

              “How do you feel?” He asked, and she became aware that they had sat there in silence, staring at one another for what must have been minutes. Had _he_ really broken the silence this time?

              Kagome shifted her gaze down to her hands. As soon as her eyes were off him, he came into the room, stopping before the bed for a moment before he pulled the desk chair beside it and settled down in it. She glanced up at him, took in his regal posture, anachronistic on the office furniture. “Seems like I’m all better.” Her voice was tremulous and high. She looked up at him again. “I wanted to say – I was trying to say –” she choked on her words.

              Sesshoumaru said nothing. He remained perfectly still before her, as she struggled to speak through the closing of her throat.

              Seven little words. “Thank you for coming to save me,” she managed, finally. They were, thankfully, different words than the ones she had desperately tried to get out as she lay dying on the cavern floor: thank you for _trying_ to save me.

              The soft hum of his voice in that familiar ‘hn’ that she had grown so used to hearing, was a balm to her frayed nerves. Her wan smile was accompanied with a quick glance to his face. Somehow, though she had been able to stare at him when he was in the doorway, now that he was close, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him for longer than a moment.

              Silence fell between them once more.

              Though her throat felt tight, she managed to squeak out, “… why did you come?”

              “Myouga told me of your situation,” his voice was soft and free of inflection.

              “But _why_ did you come?” Now, there was no way that she could take her eyes _off_ of him. His expression was unchanged, but she thought she could perceive a change in the intensity in the gold of his eyes.

              He didn’t respond for a long time. Eventually, he reached out. Kagome marveled, taking in the magenta stripes around his wrists, the long, tapered fingers tipped with pointed, lethal nails. But in contrast to how deadly she knew those hands to be, his touch was gentle as he placed his fingers over hers. “I am… invested in your well-being.”

              She scoffed at the statement, though she couldn’t repress a smile from forming at how _ridiculous_ that sentence was. “I don’t understand you at all,” she said, helpless to resist his touch, desperate to protect her heart.

              He squeezed her hand before releasing her to lean back in his chair. “Do you really expect to?” he asked, and the question surprised her. He huffed, almost as though he were laughing at her.

              Affronted, she twined her fingers tighter together. “I mean, we’ve known each other almost a year now,” she protested.

              His expression turned a little queer – eyes narrowing a fraction as though squinting, lips tightening slightly, as though pursed – and he tilted his head, a wisp of silver hair falling across his cheek. “You know _nothing_ ,” he pronounced, voice gentle but firm, and the words echoed in her head as she recalled him having said so once before.

              She blinked.

              _You know nothing._

              And she realized he was right. What did she know of him? She knew only what he had chosen to show her when he had been pretending at humanity. She had seen him, _truly_ seen him, for the first time only today. What he was capable of in battle… his calculating cruelty to those that opposed him. And she was sure what she had seen only scratched the surface. 

              In truth, he was a stranger.

              A fearsome youkai, that both Myouga-sensei and Yura deferred to, called _Sesshoumaru-sama_.

              Not the kind, gentle, and serious professor she had fallen for.

              Stricken, Kagome met his gaze.

              He leaned forward again, brushing her hair lightly to tuck it behind her ear. “You have endured quite the ordeal today. For now, it’s best you rest. Sleep.”

              Sesshoumaru stood, posture and expression aloof. He watched over her as Kagome scooted down in the bed, accommodating herself against his pillows. When she stilled, his hands reached down to adjust the sheets, tucking them in under her chin. Face still impassive, he brushed her bangs aside, and Kagome imagined she could feel tenderness in his touch.

              He walked to the doorway, and stood within its frame, watching her for a moment, fingers lingering on the light-switch. He flicked it and the room darkened. “Sleep,” he commanded.

              She unknowingly obeyed him before he even closed the door.

             

 

              It was a dreamless sleep, deep and comfortable. When she woke in the morning, it was to the scent of coffee and the warmth of a sunbeam on her face, despite the cool winter air. She sat up in the bed, scrubbing her eyes with her hands, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the floor, toes chilling instantly, and she stood on wobbly legs. Her vision faded in and out, and she wavered for a moment before catching her balance and shaking off the vertigo.

              With a few tentative steps, she let herself out of the bedroom and into the living room.

              Sesshoumaru was seated at the kitchen counter, in a t-shirt and jeans, but his markings were present and his hair, shimmering and silken silver, lay loose and free down his back. He looked odd; half the man she knew and half the youkai she did not, sipping coffee in a familiar pose, expression blank and unfamiliar.

              He turned when she approached, and his eyes gave her a once-over before he let loose that half-huff that sounded strangely like a laugh in her ears. She glanced down at herself, seeing her bare legs and his crumpled nightshirt, and tugged her hair over her shoulders self-consciously, to control her state of disarray.

              “Coffee?” He asked, and though the question was familiar, she realized that his voice was actually _different_ when he looked like this. Silkier. Lower.

              “Thank you,” she said, making her way to one of the stools at the counter, and he got up to pour her a cup.

              “You would like a shower, I am sure. Yura brought you a change of clothes last night. I left it in the bathroom for you.”

              “Thank you,” she repeated, warming her hands on the outside of the white ceramic mug, breathing deep of the rich roasted coffee within.

              They sat in silence for several minutes after Kagome took her first sip.

              “Can you tell me – what happened to me? To _him_?” She asked. 

              The tale he told her was like something out of a story-book. Hearing Sesshoumaru spin a yarn was a novel experience for her; even at his best he had always been concise to the point of reticent, but today he seemed inclined to talk.

              He started with the call he had received from Myouga. Sesshoumaru had been at home, working on his next book, when Myouga called. Few words were exchanged. Everything Myouga had to say was conveyed via his tone.

              “Sesshoumaru-sama. I have heard from Higurashi-kun’s relations that she has gone to scout out the meeting place.” This, of course, merited no response. “I should also mention that Naraku absented from his class yesterday and has been unreachable since.”

              Sesshoumaru had departed immediately.

              Before he even stepped into the cavern, he knew that an altercation had occurred. He could smell Naraku’s youki, its bitter, resinous stench overpowering nearly everything except for the burning, electric scent of ozone that marked a release of reiki. He reached Naraku just as he lowered himself over Kagome, her attempts to fight him off insufficient.

              When he had wrested Naraku from her and discarded him to the side, he assessed her condition. She looked much worse for the wear. She had, despite her obvious inferiority in strength and power, done an admirable job of attempting to protect herself.

              Kagome had wanted to interject here, in her own defense, but what had he said that was really wrong? She did stop him, though, to ask a question. “Did I smell funny?” He tilted his head in question, so she rephrased. “You looked like… I don’t know. Your nostrils flared.”

              His eyelids shuttered down, averting his gaze, and a small, mysterious smile creeped onto his lips. “You are observant,” he declared, lashes fluttering as he peeked up to study her face, “for a human.”

              But despite this taunt, he did explain. He _had_ smelled something. There was the coppery tang of burnt ozone from the reiki she had released, of course, but he could perceive a cauldron of it boiling within her, so virulent that it had taken him aback. “Humans of your kind, who possess spiritual power,” he expounded, “even the most prominent ones, do not achieve a fraction of the strength that is inside of you.” He paused. “Your cousin for example, has no spiritual energy within him to speak of.”

              Kagome recalled then, Mariko-oba-san’s bitterness surrounding the subject of reiki. “It’s like a vestigial feature for most of us,” she had said, and Ichiro had reminded Kagome after Kagura’s first attack, that she should say nothing of the matter to her aunt, or risk her disfavor. He had confided that he didn’t know of anyone who could put out anywhere near as much reiki, let alone release as much as she did and still have enough energy left over to injure Yura after, when Kagome had struck out after waking.

              Even Yura had told her that she had not seen anything quite like that display of spiritual energy in at least the last four hundred years. Kagome had the distinct impression that when they had said these things, they hadn’t exactly been praising her. For his part, Ichiro had looked genuinely concerned, put off, like he didn’t quite know what to feel about it, she recalled. Yura had never broached the subject again, and when Kagome raised it, had remarkably little to say.

              These recollections flitted through her mind in the space of a second, as Sesshoumaru took a sip of his morning brew before continuing his tale.

              He and Naraku had fought, of course. “He was convinced he was strong enough to defeat me,” Sesshoumaru marveled. “But regardless of the number of youkai he absorbed within him, he would never present a true threat to one such as myself; not without the aid of the Shikon no Tama, as it was in its prime.”

              Naraku struck out at her in desperation, having grown increasingly fatigued and desperate to avoid defeat in a battle he had been so certain he would win. Sesshoumaru described in great detail what had happened in the smallest fraction of a second, what Kagome hadn’t been able to understand. She had grabbed the Jewel around her neck as she hit the floor. Naraku lunged forward. Two things happened then, simultaneously: Naraku’s hand plunged into her thoracic cavity, attempting to reach her heart, and Kagome had, with the simmering cauldron of reiki within her and the desperation of one foreseeing their own death, pulled energy from the sleeping stone she held so tightly in her hand to push him away.

              The explosion of reiki had been tremendous. He described a sphere of pink-tinged energy greater than six feet in diameter, and the shockwave concomitant with its release had propelled even _him_ back several feet. Naraku, mid-attack, was entirely defenseless in the face of such overwhelming power. Blown away, his broken and burned body collided against the wall of the cave. He was all but dead.

              “My eminent father,” Sesshoumaru said, after a pause, “had, long, long ago, gifted me a sword made from his own fang. What should have been a weapon of limitless strength.” His gaze dropped to his hands where they held the steaming mug of coffee, and Kagome watched as the silvery, fine lashes splayed over his cheekbones. “But the completed sword has ever been useless to me. It a sword that cannot cut.”

              Kagome blinked. “Is it… blunt?” She puzzled. “You couldn’t sharpen it?”

              “No,” he said, and his eyes sparkled when they turned to her, as though holding back laughter. Kagome wondered if he was intentionally doing her this kindness, allowing his face to show more of his expressions, so that she might understand him better. “It has an edge upon it, of course. But the sword by its design was created to never harm another. I have never had opportunity or cause to use it, but I carry it as a sign of our lineage, proof of my sire’s favor.”

               He swirled his coffee and fell silent again for a long time. It clicked then – this must be the sword Ichiro had mentioned. The one that could bring the dead to life.

              “For the first time, I felt the cry of life in that sword, demanding that I utilize its power.” He described the sickly, mud-colored creatures with their bulbous eyes and bloated bellies, that were appearing around her, ready to take her soul to the underworld. A flick of his wrist, and the demons turned to dust. Broken bone, rent muscle and shredded skin knit together, erasing any trace of the lethal wound Naraku had inflicted.

              “You did not move, but—” he paused, and Kagome perceived the tension in his jaw as he swallowed. “I could hear the beating of your heart.” Sesshoumaru maintained his focus on the mug in his hands, nearly empty and swiftly cooling, now. She wished she could see his eyes, try to read what he was thinking, but he did not move. “Yura saw to you,” he added.

              He had left her side then, to finish Naraku. His body was beyond repair, but it had been so once before, and still he had managed to return to life. This time, however, Sesshoumaru would be certain that there was no chance for revival. He unsheathed his white sword, the Bakusaiga, and with one final blow, removed Naraku permanently from the world of the living.

              With this, Sesshoumaru’s retelling came to a close.

              Side by side, they sat in silence, the warm gusts of air billowing around them from the central heating the only disturbance in the room. Kagome chewed over every detail, reconciling his telling with her experience.

              “I guess I just wonder…” she sighed, then. “I know we’ve sort of talked about it before, but I still don’t get it [1]. Why me? His obsession with the Jewel I can kind of understand, even though it’s inert, but… I’m just not clear on why he was so obsessed with _me_.”

              Sesshoumaru’s eyes roved over her face, looking for something in her expression, an odd incredulity reflecting in his irises. “You do not know?”

              The expression of disbelief in his voice made Kagome flush bright red. She waved her hands in front of her, trying to dispel the suspicion in his gaze. “This isn’t a self-pity party and I’m not digging for compliments,” she squeaked. “You know what? Never mind,” she commanded, cheeks glowing and eyes averted. “I’m gonna go take that shower.”

              Once the bathroom door was safely closed behind her, Kagome peered into the mirror and took stock of her appearance. Her hair, while a little wild, didn’t seem too much worse for wear. It was squeaky clean and free of tangles, actually. She only needed a moment to figure out how that had come about – Yura, with her fascination with hair, had doubtlessly tended to it while Kagome still slept. Fingers trembling a little, Kagome unbuttoned her borrowed shirt, examining the unmarked skin over her collarbones, tracing it down her sternum.

              She blinked and a vision of Naraku’s hand ploughing through her flitted behind her eyelids, but when she looked again, everything was just as perfect as it had been before.

              Kagome ran through what happened yesterday, from beginning to end, over and over in her mind as she stood under the steaming spray of the shower. More and more, she found herself trying to dissect her interactions with Sesshoumaru, rather than reliving the horror she had endured at Naraku’s hands. But unconsciously, she felt that creeping terror inside of her that let her know that though she was distracting herself with more pleasant thoughts, he still had his claws in her. He was gone, she reminded herself, more than once, and though she knew it to be true, she could not quite believe it.

              By the time she had gotten out of the shower, she felt certain of two things. The first, that she undoubtedly needed some kind of counselling after all that happened. The second, that there was still much that needed to be said between her and Sesshoumaru.

              Though before she was certain of it, try as she might, she couldn’t quite convince herself of his hatred, or even indifference anymore. Things he had said, things he had done – something in the way he looked at her, at times… maybe he didn’t love her. But she felt sure that he didn’t hate her; maybe even that he cared a little.

              Determined to keep the conversation going when she got out of the bathroom, dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants, tank and sweater – for which she quickly texted Yura her thanks – she marched back out into the living room and immediately the wind flew from her sails.

              Sesshoumaru was on the phone in the kitchen, and both Yura and Ichiro were standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

              “You’re welcome,” Yura said, responding verbally to Kagome’s text, as she and Ichiro swept toward Kagome with arms open. “Are you feeling better?”

              “Yes,” Kagome replied, hugging them each in turn. “Much better.”

              “You’re going to have to change again.” Yura extended a hand with a paper shopping bag in it. “I know it’s early but we have a lot to do today, lovie.”

              “We do?” Kagome asked, peeking into the bag and seeing some of her clothes folded neatly inside. She glanced down at her loungewear. “We’re going somewhere?”

              Ichiro ushered the two women to the couch and settled them down. He sat down in the chair across from them, leaned in and spoke in a lowered voice. Sesshoumaru could hear them even if they whispered, though, surely he must know that? “We were hoping it was a fluke,” he murmured, “your power. But that’s obviously not the case. I think I found someone who can help you out with it. I hope.”

              Kagome’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I thought you didn’t know anybody who…”

              “Well,” he hedged, scratching the back of his head, uncertainty showing. “I don’t _know_ her. Or if she can be of any help, really. But I’m hoping. I called her this morning and explained the situation and she seemed interested.”

              “What exactly did you explain?” she asked.

              “I told her that you were able to... I told her what happened with Kagura, and Naraku.”

              Kagome glanced at Yura, and saw that her brow was furrowed and her lips pinched shut. “What’s the matter?” She asked, crossing the space between them with her hand and laying it on Yura’s arm.

              “Hm? Oh,” Yura started, clearing her expression. “I know the family name, is all. I have my doubts about her willingness to help.”

              “Why?” Ichiro’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t say anything before.”

              “Well,” she sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “You never know. It’s worth a shot.” With that she turned back to Kagome and pushed the bag with the clothing toward her again. “You should go get changed if we’re going to catch the train.”

              “Nonsense,” Sesshoumaru’s soft voice reverberated throughout the room. Kagome hadn’t noticed he’d gotten off the phone. “I will take you.”

              Ichiro swallowed convulsively, face turning ashen, then a little green. “No—no, uh, we can’t ask that, um –” he swallowed again.

              “By car,” Sesshoumaru clarified, and Kagome could swear she detected an upward twitch in the corners of his mouth.

              “How did you go last time?” she asked, glancing back and forth between the two men.

              Ichiro excused himself to the bathroom and Yura burst into peals of laughter. “We flew,” she giggled, and shooed Kagome toward the bedroom so she could change.

             

 

              Somehow, in the span of the next twenty minutes, the four of them ended up in Sesshoumaru’s car. Yura and Ichiro held hands in the backseat. Silence reigned inside the black sedan. Kagome tangled her fingers together in her lap as she watched the scenery fly past the window. Why had he offered to drive them? Uncertainty fluttered in her chest.

              _Don’t read into things, Kagome. Don’t fall into that trap again._

              The route took them about an hour’s drive out of the city, along a coastal road and then up into the mountains. They passed through two small mountain-towns that reminded Kagome very much of the dilapidated little village that Ichiro lived in, before the car began to slow.

              There was a turn-off from the main road into a narrow drive. Sesshoumaru continued forward up the tree-lined drive, unconcerned by the barren branches brushing against the metal and glass of his car. The path continued up a steep slope, before it leveled off in front of a small shrine.

              “This is it, huh? Himi shrine.” [2] Ichiro murmured from the back seat. He nudged Yura, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and she blinked owlishly as she woke.

              “Already?” she yawned, and looked around to appraise their surroundings. Just as Kagome was about to open the car door, Yura reached out to her, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. “Kagome-chan, I think Sesshoumaru-sama might agree that it’s best for the two of us to remain in the car.” She glanced at Sesshoumaru as though to ascertain his thoughts on the matter, but as usual his face betrayed nothing. Kagome tilted her head in inquiry, and Yura hesitated a little before offering an explanation. “As a rule, it might be best for you to not be seen with us, in places such as these.”

              Kagome glanced at Ichiro, but when he simply shrugged, Kagome nodded her understanding, and the two of them got out of the car.

              She trailed after him as he ambled up the walk. “What’s the name—”

              “You there!” A shrill yet commanding voice bellowed out from before them, where a woman had been standing unnoticed in the shadow of one of the shrine buildings. She was dressed in traditional garb, fine black hair with a few greys trailing behind her back. Her features were pretty if a little weathered, but her expression was frosty and unwelcoming.

              “Ah, Himi-sama?” Ichiro replied tentatively. He introduced himself, then Kagome. “I called this morning about –”

              “You’re the one, then?” Himi-sama cut him off, apparently having lost all interest in Ichiro and directing her attention to Kagome. “Come in for some tea.”

              Now Ichiro trailed behind, as Kagome followed Himi-sama into the compound and into the little residence in the back. Even inside, there was little relief from the crisp winter air; an older apartment such as this would hardly have central heating. Himi-sama set a kettle on a boiler-humidifier and turned it on, then indicated that her two guests should seat themselves at a low-lying table in the middle of the room. She excused herself to retrieve the tea.

              It took all of five minutes for her to return with a steaming tea service for three, and she poured the green tea into three beautifully matched, handmade cups. Kagome gratefully wrapped her fingers around them, happy to have a source of warmth in the chilled room.

              “Your cousin tells me you _killed_ a _demon_ with your _reiki_ ,” she drew the words out mockingly as she rearranged herself in her seat such that she was angled to cut Ichiro entirely out of their conversation.

              Kagome gritted her teeth. What was _with_ this woman? “I nearly did,” she corrected, “but came close enough.” She opened her mouth, about to continue, when Himi-sama cut her off.

              “Care to explain why a _purported_ demon-slayer comes here in the company of two youkai? Do you think me an absolute idiot?”

              Kagome’s eyes widened in shock.

              “Anyone with a _modicum_ of talent could feel the strength of that youki,” she seethed, narrowing her eyes at Kagome. “Are you here to threaten me?”

              “No!” Kagome cried, turning to Ichiro for help. He looked just as perplexed as her. Kagome could feel Sesshoumaru’s immense youki, of course, though having been sitting in a car with it for the entire ride, she had sort of forgotten it was there. Actually, it was something worth remarking on that she had gotten to the point where she could feel his youki whether he intended her to or not, and not only when he was shoving it in her face. Now that she had been reminded of it, though, she felt it slithering around them, pulsing, active, and almost _obnoxious. Oh come on_ , she begged, wishing he could hear her thoughts, _tone it down, would you?_ “He’s powerful, of course, but he wouldn’t _do_ anything—”

              “Is he a dog you have collared, then?” She asked, coming to her feet, voice rising. The youki in the room didn’t take well to that comment and surged at the Miko in affront. She shuffled back a little, eyes narrowing. “Why are you here?”

              Kagome balked, and Ichiro stood, making his way around the table to be at her side. “Like I said when we spoke this morning,” he explained, “she needs guidance—”

              “Why are you here?” The woman asked again, as though Ichiro weren’t even in the room. He cursed, then said no more.

              “Like he said,” Kagome replied, straining for patience. “We’re not here with any nefarious ends. I was hoping you could help me. I need to know how to control this reiki. Sesshoumaru and Yura-san are here for moral support. They’re our _friends_.”

              Himi-sama’s eyes squinted in anger upon hearing the names of the two youkai who were seated outside in the car. “Friends?” She scoffed. “With those _monsters_?”

              Kagome pinched her lips closed and held her breath to keep from speaking. A stolen glance at her cousin showed him in a similar posture, struggling to retain his composure.

              “Fine then. You want help. I have some texts here which may offer the kind of assistance you need,” she crossed her arms nonchalantly over her chest. “But I can’t show them to just anyone. A test is in order.”

              “A test?” Kagome asked, sighing her relief. So she would help them after all. Was this woman an expert troll, or what? “What do I need to do?”

              “Demonstrate your power to me,” she suggested lightly.

              “I… I mean, I don’t know _how_ to do that,” Kagome hedged. “Since I can’t control it. Like I said.”

              “Well, you say you _nearly_ killed a youkai before,” Himi-sama shrugged. “In self-defense was it? A matter simply solved. We happen to have one such monster just outside. _Use him to do it again_ ,” she hissed.

              Ichiro’s hand grabbed tightly on to hers. He said nothing, but the merest tug of her arm communicated everything there was to say.

              “Thank you for the tea,” Kagome bit out, nodding her head, and the two of them turned and left without another word.

              “We’ll find another way,” Ichiro whispered to her once they were outside. The bitter cold froze over Kagome’s nose, which had just begun to thaw, and they trudged through the snow to the car in silence.

              When they got there, the engine was running. All of its occupants were silent as Sesshoumaru steered the car back down the drive. After several minutes had passed, Ichiro opened his mouth to speak. Sesshoumaru flicked on the radio, cutting him off, and the remainder of the drive was conducted in in relative quiet. At one point, Kagome looked at her cousin and his girlfriend’s hands, reflected in the rear-view mirror, clasped together in a white-knuckled grip.

              Then she peered at the driver of the vehicle, who appeared wholly unperturbed as he maneuvered down the winding mountain road. In fact, she thought she could see the tiniest crinkle around his eyes, the corners of his lips fractionally tilted upwards – the closest thing to smug she had ever seen him look. 

              There was traffic on the way back into town, but the news station playing in the car kept the ride interesting. Once back home, Kagome, Yura, and Ichiro followed Sesshoumaru up to his apartment to retrieve Kagome’s things. This was done easily and in the space of a minute, but Sesshoumaru still walked the three of them to the door.

              “I spoke with Myouga this morning,” he said, just as the elevator door dinged open. “He is sorry for it, but he will require your attendance in class tomorrow.”

              “Of course,” she replied, suddenly aware of how few hours were left until Monday began. “What… what will they do about Naraku’s classes…? Who will replace him?” As soon as the words left her lips she was overcome with a desperate wish that it be _anybody_ but him. If he became her teacher, or _worse_ , her advisor...

              He responded by way of a small shrug, and a wave of calm washed over her. He motioned his guests into the elevator.

              “Thank you so much for everything, Sesshoumaru-san,” Ichiro rushed. “We’re in your debt.” He and Yura bowed formally in thanks.

              Kagome’s lips parted to echo her cousin’s speech, but the shutting elevator interrupted her.

              “Be safe,” came Sesshoumaru’s voice, flitting to her ears just as the doors came to a close. Kagome’s heart stopped for a second. The last time he had said that, it had been his way of saying good-bye.

-+-

              Sango was seated cozily on the couch when Kagome, Yura, and Ichiro arrived home. “Don’t worry,” She laughed, “I haven’t farted in the pillows or anything. You’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

              Kagome laughed, shaking a fist at her before she and Yura made their way back to her bedroom. Ichiro had ambled into the kitchen and was rooting through the fridge. “We’re not going to stay tonight,” Yura murmured as they entered the room. “You need your rest after everything you’ve been through. And besides. We’re in the city. Might get a themed room for the night someplace,” she winked [3].

              “Hey, can I ask you something?” Kagome settled on the edge of her bed, watching as Yura began folding their clothes from the day before, which they had piled on Kagome’s desk.

              “Mm?”

              “How did you guys start dating?”

              Yura’s lips parted in surprise, her eyebrows skyrocketing behind her bangs. “Well,” she started, “I’ve run that little coffee shop for the last ten years or so. He started showing up for the cakes, and to vent about his parents.” She shrugged. “I fell for him first, of course, but it didn’t take long for us to realize our feelings, and he has always been eager to flout his mother, so, as soon as he decided he liked me, he asked me out.” She giggled musically at the recollection.

              “You didn’t help him along?” Kagome teased. “A little youkai nudge in the right direction?”

              Yura outright laughed at this. “If only that’s how it worked!”

              “It’s not?” Kagome asked, genuinely astonished at the response to what had been a simple joke.

              Setting down the clothing in her hands, Yura gave her a queer look. “Of course not. What even _is_ love? It’s a combination of so many different feelings that there’s no way to _make_ someone feel it. Did you think there was?”

              Kagome hummed as she considered her answer. Sesshoumaru had only ever made her feel calm, dreamy. The closest she could come to it was with Kouga, but really – it wasn’t love or even sexual attraction that he projected onto her, but rather that nostalgic, warm feeling that reminded her of when she was in the throes of her first love with him. The effect the feeling had on her was what made her so easily get caught up in his pace, what made her give in to his kisses when she wasn’t really interested anymore, but it wasn’t as though he was coercing her with his affection, even unintentionally.

              And even then, it wasn’t _mind control._ It wasn’t insurmountable. She had pushed the feeling aside many of the times it had happened.

              “I guess not,” Kagome responded eventually. Now curious, though, she posed another question as she leaned forward toward the other woman. “What about, like, lust, though?”

              Yura’s eyebrows waggled and Kagome immediately thought of Miroku. “It’s possible, but quite complicated,” she answered seriously. “Fear is one of the easiest emotions to induce, because it’s so instinctual. Human and youkai were natural enemies for the longest time. It’s the feeling we are the best at bringing out in you, having done so in spades for millennia. And it’s useful. One of the easiest ways to control a human is to make them fearful.”

              Kagome wasn’t liking this peek into youkai perceptions of human psychology, but it certainly clarified a few things. It made the creeping, awful anxiety that Naraku induced make sense, for certain.

              “Really, to do anything aside from fear requires a great deal of understanding about humanity and the human psyche,” Yura shrugged, half giving up. “But like I said before, though we can’t always help it, generally we try to keep our youki to ourselves.” [4]

              “What about Sesshoumaru?” Kagome asked suddenly, before Yura could close the subject.

              “Oh yeah, I saw what he was doing this morning at Himi Shrine,” Yura tutted for a moment. “Now _there_ is someone who is completely beyond my understanding.” Her bob bounced around her face as she shook her head. “Why you would try to intimidate the Miko who could help your friend—goodness only knows.”

              Of course, Kagome agreed with the sentiment, but that wasn’t really what she was referring to when she had asked about Sesshoumaru. “He does the calming thing too,” she offered, trying to redirect Yura.

              “Oh, that one’s pretty easy too, since it’s so closely linked to fear,” Yura said. “It’s kind of like taking grains of sand that have scattered and sweeping them into a tidy pile. Or like corralling a fire to control how brightly it burns. If that makes sense.” She saw dissatisfaction with her answer on Kagome’s face, and this time attributed Kagome’s feelings correctly, because she went on to say, “I mean, he’s powerful enough to outdo all of us, of course, but I highly doubt he understands or involves himself with humans enough to know or have cause to try for feelings other than the basics.”

              “Hmm,” Kagome mulled that one over.

              A knock on the door was immediately followed by Ichiro entering the room. “All packed up?”

              “Mm, just need to pop this little pile in the bag and we’re good to go.”

              It was hard to say goodbye to them, but they wouldn’t let her convince them to stay. “You’re doing fine, lovie,” Yura whispered as they hugged their farewells. Ichiro said something to the same effect, accompanied with a reminder to reach out if she needed help, and that she was to do nothing more strenuous than lounge for the rest of the day.

              Once the front door had clicked shut behind them, she joined Sango on the couch.

              “How’s your weekend been?” Sango asked, eyes still fixed on her laptop screen.

              “Killer,” Kagome replied on a laugh, sinking into the cushions.

              “Miroku came by earlier, looking for you,” Sango said. _Shit_ , thought Kagome, _I’ll have to fill him in on what happened_. “Did he and your cousin know each other before?”

              “They’ve talked on the phone, I think.”

              “Well, it was nice of them to come visit,” she hummed. “Agh. I am so sick of this assignment.” She shut her screen and turned to her friend. “Wanna go get some ice-cream or something?”

              “It’s winter!”

              “Let’s bake cookies then,” Sango said, “and drink coffee.”

              The two of them made their way into the kitchen, and Kagome’s body fell into the rhythm of a familiar and comforting routine: shooting the shit with her best friend, laughing about inanities, waltzing around the kitchen as they prepared food in concert with one another. After the insanity of the last twenty-four hours, nothing could have been simpler or more healing than this return to normalcy. She thanked the gods over and over for the bliss of having a friend entirely unconnected with the drama she’d been living.

              Cookies eaten and coffee imbibed, Sango returned to her work, and Kagome returned to her room. She texted Miroku. He reported that he’d been filled in by Ichiro earlier, and commanded her to think no more of it, and to get into bed and sleep.

              Intent on following his directions, she readied herself for bed, plugged her phone in, then cozied herself between the numerous blankets, sheets, and quilts. With the lights out, and the only sounds in the room the sounds of her breathing and the buzz of the heater, Kagome began to drowse.

              The chime of an incoming text alert startled her out of her light snooze. She glanced at her clock; it was past eleven. Grunting, Kagome rolled onto her elbow and picked up her phone.

              _I have something I would speak with you about. When are you available this week?_

              Kagome would have recognized the stiff formality of the tone anywhere, even if she hadn’t seen his name at the top of the screen. Just as she began to thumb in a response, another text message arrived:

              _You should be sleeping_.

              Then another.

              _Put the phone down. You may inform me tomorrow of your availability._

              Kagome did as she was bid, an incredulous little smile on her face. Read receipts. She should turn those off.

-+-

              “I seem to recall being in a similar situation to this one, not too long ago,” drawled Sango from where she lay on Kagome’s bed, sprawled on her back, eyes on Kagome’s reflection in the mirror. She ignored the death glare Kagome shot her over her shoulder. “Except last time I was looking at a woman scorned, if I remember correctly.”

              Kagome did not dignify this with a response. She held up one sweater dress in front of her, and then another. “Which one do you think?”

              “Didn’t we say dresses could read as ‘trying to hard’?”

              “Not _sweater dresses_. Dresses with structure come off as ‘trying to hard’. Winter dresses are casual by definition,” Kagome replied lightly. “So which one?” She held the blue in front of her, then the grey.

              “Blue, I think,” Sango’s reply was accompanied by furrowed eyebrows as she squinted at her friend. “So what did you forget to tell dear ol’ Sango-chan, that lead to this high-tension outfit-planning session?”

              Kagome shrugged vaguely. On Monday, it had been announced that Naraku-sensei had passed away in a vehicular accident: a collision followed by an engine fire. Kagome told Sango the news immediately, and it was an odd lie to tell. Predictably, Sango didn’t mourn his passing for even a millisecond, and she had no expectation that Kagome should either. “When Naraku passed, we ran into each other again,” Kagome fudged. That was really all that she could come up with.

              “ _And_ …?”

              “He, uh, got me out of a pinch,” Kagome ad-libbed, berating herself for not thinking of a cover story in advance. “An awkward situation with Hojo-kun,” she expanded, “and then out of the blue asked me to come see him.”

              “Right.” Sango tapped her chin, squinted a little in thought. Kagome wasn’t sure how much of the story Sango bought – Kagome was a hatefully poor liar – but she at least wasn’t questioning her further about it. “So we’re showing off what he passed up on? Or is this a little more of a … ‘hey, I’m still available’-type vibe we’re going for?”

              “Well—” She puzzled over that one for a moment. “A bit of both?”

              “Then for sure go with the blue dress. Black leggings. And the boots with the fur.”

              Kagome nodded decisively. “I concur,” she pronounced, and hung the grey dress back up in her closet. She slipped the blue dress off its hanger and then over her head. A little wiggling and tugging, and the cowl-necked, cable-knit dress was on.

              “Yeah,” Sango approved, “that’s the one.”

              Kagome studied her reflection a moment longer after Sango had left the room. She pulled the Shikon no Tama out from under the fabric and nestled it on the folds of the cowl in the front of her dress. Maybe it was her imagination, but—somehow, the sunlight pouring in through the window reflected off the stone a little brighter than it should. She squinted at the stone, peering at it how she had peered at Sesshoumaru when she had first been learning to see his youki. Was it her imagination, or was it glowing faintly pink?

              Hastily, she tucked it back under the collar of her dress and rearranged the folds of fabric to hide the bump.

              A quick glance at her watched revealed that it was four o’clock, and past time that she finished getting dressed. Kagome had waited for this appointment for the entire week, repeating over and over and over to herself that she should _not_ build up her expectations.

              True, he had brought her back from the dead. And he had voluntarily spent more time in her company than was strictly necessary, having her at his house during her convalescence, and offering to drive them up to Himi Shrine. He had said he was invested in her well-being; and once, he had said he was fond of her company, in his own way. And he had reached out to her, when he had been so determined to ignore her before. All of these things were true.

              But he also had been explicitly clear that he did not involve himself with humans – even if he later broke that promise. And he had been cold and aloof to her before. And they were fundamentally different species, which it seemed like he had a ton of baggage about.

              So, she tamped down on her hopes every time she felt the sweet lub-dub of her heart in her chest in thinking of meeting him again. Which happened more often than she would admit to.

              Her outfit was cute but not exactly practical, and she spent a good five minutes defrosting in the lobby of the faculty office building once she arrived. When she entered the hallway with Sesshoumaru’s office, Kagome felt the surreal sensation of seeing Naraku’s office door and knowing that he would never be behind it again.

              He was really gone.

              The door was actually wide open, now, and as she passed the doorway, a masculine voice called out to stop her. “Ah, Higurashi-san! Come in, come in!”

              The pleasant, friendly voice belonged to Naraku’s replacement, Ueda-sensei. He was a kind man in his late middle age, who wore glasses and elbow-patches and had a bad habit of dropping his pens. Myouga-sensei had introduced them when Ueda-sensei had arrived on Wednesday, and they had spent almost an hour talking. It was a miracle that Myouga-sensei had secured a replacement so quickly, having had to do so already once this year when Chiaki-sensei had passed.  Friday’s class had been cancelled this week as the professor was still sorting through all of the course materials and the syllabus. Unfortunately, the excessively long lecture block couldn’t change at this point, but she and Ueda-sensei had tossed around some good ideas to make the format more interesting.

              Kagome ducked into his office, greeting him with a smile. “Can I help you with something, Sensei?”

              “Yes, yes,” he said, gesturing from where he stood by the bookcase. “You took Naraku-sensei’s course last semester, is that right? Which were the books he used for that class?”

              Kagome tilted her head as she examined the titles on the shelves, looking for three specific volumes. She plucked them out and handed them to her new professor, and he thanked her absently, eyes on the titles in his hand. Ueda-sensei set the books down on the desk after a moment and peered up at his student over the rims of his glasses.

              “Now, was there anything I could do for you today?”

              “Me?”

              “Oh, didn’t you come to see me?”

              “Ah, no, actually. I’m sorry. I was on my way to Aotsuki-sensei’s office. We have a meeting scheduled.”

              “Ah! My misunderstanding. I just assumed you were here to see me. I wasn’t aware you had enrolled in his course.”

              “Oh, no,” Kagome shook her head. “I’m not in his class. Aotsuki-sensei has been kind enough to act as a mentor for me this last year. I interned for him over the break as well.”

              “I see, I see,” Ueda-sensei replied, righting his head, which had been tilting incrementally as Kagome spoke. “Well, as I am to be your advisor now, please feel free to turn to me if you need anything as well. It’s hard to step into these things half-way through,” he complained, “for both the students and the teachers. I’m sure you and Naraku-sensei had figured out a good pattern between the two of you already, and it must be a pain to start over, but bear with me please, Higurashi-kun. We’ll rub along together pretty well soon enough.”

              Kagome laughed, simultaneously relieved, and nervous that he might figure the source of her relief. He was so _normal_ , there was nothing that could delight her more. “Actually, I am excited to work with you.”

              “Yes, yes,” he replied, attention already on something else. “Run along. Door open if you please.”

              “Excuse me,” Kagome murmured, and happily left the room. There was a little bounce in her step as she made her way to Sesshoumaru’s office. A quick pause to readjust her dress, comb her fingers through her hair once more, and then simmer in the embarrassment of the sudden recollection that Sesshoumaru could hear what she was doing, and she knocked on his door.

              “Come in,” he called, and Kagome let herself in. She closed the door quietly behind her. When she turned around, she was surprised to see Sesshoumaru sitting at his desk, peering out at her from magenta-lined eyes, stripes on his cheeks and blue crescent prominent on his brow. How unexpected, to see him like this in his office. It drove home to her that _this_ was really _who he was_ ; that his human face was the affectation.

              She undid her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before taking a seat across from him. “I’m sorry I’m a little late—”

              “I heard,” he said, apparently unconcerned. “Ueda-sensei seems to be an appropriate fit.”

              “Yeah,” she said, fondly. “He’s very professor-like, isn’t he? I think I’ll enjoy working with him.”

              “Hn.” He stood. “Coffee?”

              “Oh, yes, please.”

              Conversation halted as he turned to the coffee-pot and poured out two mugs of the rich brew he favored. He set a familiar mug before her on his desk, and then settled back into his chair, his own coffee untouched once he had settled it on its coaster.

              The light outside had waned almost entirely, and the last beam of orange as the sun dipped below the horizon cast an unearthly glow on Sesshoumaru’s angelic features. Kagome shook her head slightly to clear the admiration from her gaze. There was a keen expression in Sesshoumaru’s eyes, as though they were studying her. Eventually he spoke again.

              “I wanted to apologize—” he stopped short, as though he had meant to say something else. At Kagome’s inquiring look, he sighed, apparently resigning himself to continue. “For a number of things. For my callous behavior to you over the summer and in the fall. For allowing you to operate under a misapprehension of what was between us, for so long. For not stepping in sooner to shield you from Naraku. For… not apologizing before, when I ought to have done so.” He paused, eyes flicking to his fingers. Was he counting off his crimes? Kagome stifled a smile. “And most recently, for damaging your connection with a Miko who might have helped you gain some control of your power.”

              His voice was unexpectedly earnest. Kagome bit her lip, her brief moment of mirth giving way to a depth of emotion. “You _hurt_ me,” she managed, watching for the tiny cues in his countenance that told her how he felt. “A lot.” His lips firmed ever so slightly. “Why apologize now?”

              “Perhaps I regret having conducted myself as I did.”

              She laughed. How his pride must sting to admit to that! Though it wasn’t really that much of an admission. “I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.” He blinked; he hadn’t been expecting that. “You picked a weird venue for an apology,” she said through a pained smile.

              He huffed. “I did not intend to—”

              “Apologize?”

              He leveled her with a look of tolerance, then his lips turned upward a little. He shook his head. “Of course I meant to apologize, or I would not have done so. I meant to lead with something else.” He opened his drawer and pulled out a folder, which he pushed across the desk toward her. Wordlessly, he gestured that she open it.

              Curious, Kagome picked the folder up. It had the familiar, musky scent of old parchment and ink. The sheaf of paper within was _washi_ – the traditional paper made from fibers of the paper mulberry. It was resilient paper, but felt brittle in her hands. Kagome studied the brushwork of the hand-inked pages, realizing at once from the script that these must have been written hundreds of years ago. She glanced up at Sesshoumaru for an explanation, and he met her eyes patiently but said nothing.

              So, she started to read.

              _Humans are really quite useless creatures,_ the text began, and Kagome pinched her lips closed, brows furrowing in displeasure. _It rather escapes me why they choose to treat something as common as spiritual energy as though it were some mystical and rare gem, to be coveted and hidden away. Their training practices as well are inexplicably bizarre. True, it stems from the spirit; however, they behave as though one must achieve enlightenment before properly harnessing their power._

              “This is…?” Kagome flipped through the pages, eyes jumping across each as words popped out at her.

              “From my personal archives,” he explained. “Observations of my eminent sire, regarding the cultivation of reiki. I thought you might find it instructive.”

              “ _Oh_ ,” air whooshed from her lungs as Kagome sat in awe of the objects in her hands.

              “Since your confrontation with Naraku, I have noticed that your reiki seems to be… increasing.” He paused, directing his gaze pointedly at her neckline. “Do you recall the conversation I related to you – what Bokusenou said regarding the Jewel?”

              Kagome thought back, trying to pin the memory down. Something about… _“_ _Your reiki is not sufficient to breathe life back into the Jewel. So long as you remain as you are, there is no danger to you.”_

              He must have noticed the lightening of her features that signaled her having found the memory, because he continued. “You have not ‘remained as you were’, so you must learn to protect yourself, and the precious item in your possession.” He took a sip of his coffee, then indicated the papers once more. “He is a self-indulgent writer,” Sesshoumaru grimaced, “and tends toward long-windedness. If you find his writing circuitous, or should you encounter any difficulty applying his theory in practice, please allow me to assist.”

              Kagome tried to speak, starting twice and cutting herself off immediately, not quite pleased with what she had wanted to say. At length she settled on an emphatic “ _Thank you_ ,” and left it at that. She sat before him for quite some time, engrossed in the elegant brush-strokes and the words they formed. When she looked back up at him, he was leaning back in his office chair, hand to his chin and obscuring his lips, incisive gaze boring into her. “Thank you,” she repeated, breathless.

              “Not at all. My office hours are always available to you, of course, but should you find yourself in need of assistance at a less convenient hour, feel free text me.”

              She blinked. That was unexpected. He was making himself available for her at any time, then, basically. Again, she tamped down on the upwelling of hope, reminding herself that this was only in a specific context. _He’s not saying, like, ‘text me if you’re bored and wanna hang’. Business. It’s business._

              With a tremulous smile, Kagome thanked him again as she stood up. She carefully tucked the papers into their folder, and the folder into her bag. “I’m going to go dive into this,” she declared, by way of excusing herself, and made her way to the door.

              Again, his voice echoed behind her just as she started down the hallway: “Be safe.”

              She got home and, losing all sense of time, immersed herself immediately in a detailed reading of the manuscript, taking comprehensive notes as she went along. Sesshoumaru’s father, whose name she realized she did not know, had catalogued in exhaustive detail his observations, hypotheses, and recommended training techniques. It was around two in the morning when she stopped, purely from exhaustion, and flopped onto her belly on her bed.

              One hand reached for her phone as the other pulled her pillow under her head. Through bleary eyes, she typed up a text message, and sent it to Sesshoumaru before she could rethink it: _Not that I’m not grateful, but why on earth did he spend so much time and energy on this stuff?_

A reply pinged in mere moments later. _This is not what I meant when I said to text me at a less convenient hour. Go to bed, Higurashi._

Kagome chuckled. She flipped onto her back, and, holding her phone over her face, replied with more bravery than she felt: _I’m *in* bed. Humor me_.

              _When one lives for millennia, one must find ways of filling their time_.

              That made sense to her, of course. _Has teaching here been a good way to fill your time?_

              _It has had its merits._

              _Like what?_ She asked, hitting send and shutting her eyes. She drowsed for a moment, but the vibration of her phone on her chest woke her from her half-sleep.

              _A pleasant connection with a calamity-prone student, for example._

              Kagome smiled, eyes flitting closed once more as she fell into a deep, tranquil sleep.

 

-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on to Chapter 18 on 5/17. After that, there’s only one more chapter left—the epilogue. Gosh! It hardly seems real, even to me. Hah. I sort of don’t really want it to end, either. So because of that, I have plans for two related three-shot stories after this one:
> 
> A Version of this story written from Sesshoumaru’s perspective  
> And
> 
> A Sequel addressing their relationship and Kagome’s budding powers.  
>  
> 
> Which story would you like to see first? What would you like to see in each of them?
> 
> Expect Chapter 18 on 5/17, and chapter 19, the epilogue and final chapter, on 5/25 or 26!
> 
>  
> 
> Footnotes:
> 
> [1] See chapter 15 for this conversation.
> 
> [2] Himi-sama: This surname is written 冷見, meaning “cold” and “look/outlook”, respectively. I thought that described her character pretty well. ><
> 
> [3] Themed rooms are usually found in love hotels. Wink. Wink.
> 
> [4] This refers to a conversation they had in chapter 11.


	18. 縁談 Marriage Proposal: It will not come. Part II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP RIGHT THERE!! I updated two chapters within a week—did you read chapter 17? Also see if you can spot the Jane Austen paraphrase in this one.

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Eighteen

縁談 Marriage Proposal: It will not come. Part II.

It took two weeks for Kagome to read through the entirety of the manuscript that Sesshoumaru had given her. They had a constant text message stream running after school hours, with Kagome asking for clarifications of terms, or the readings and meanings of archaic characters she did not recognize [1]. They had also met four times during those two weeks, once on campus, once at Sesshoumaru’s house, and twice at a neighborhood café that received little traffic, to discuss at length the concepts contained in the text.

              Sesshoumaru’s father really was long-winded and circuitous, often running off passages of his stream-of-consciousness that branched off tangentially and looped back around, and…  and Kagome expended a great amount of effort organizing and structuring her notes to make his ideas cogent in a manner that would be useful to her. She hadn’t begun trying to _use_ any of the information yet. In her eyes, this was something like a recipe: meant to be read and understood before beginning to cook.

              Sesshoumaru himself was eminently helpful at all stages of this process. He was never too busy to talk to her, for however long she needed. Unlike his father, he was thoughtful and concise, so when she was puzzling out a bloated passage about healing via energy transfer, for example, Sesshoumaru was able to distill it to its key points in a way that made sense to her.

              He no longer played a part, like he had when they had first met. He behaved as himself, or the version of himself that she was now coming to know – meticulous, formal in speech, stoic, proud and a little snooty. But he was also considerate, patient, and though not demonstrative, quite passionate in his pursuits.

              She had tried to hold out, but two weeks of exposure was enough to make her fall in love again. Though she was not sure if she had ever truly fallen out of love. But this time, Kagome would not step into the trap she had waltzed blindly into the last time: this time, she would let his behavior be the guide of her sensations.

              By the time she had finished transcribing the texts into her computer, organized her outline and structured her notes, and made it into a workable guide on the theory and practice of reiki cultivation, December was already waning with a little more than one week left before winter break. She had a regular meeting with Ueda-sensei after his class on Fridays, during which they discussed her coursework and her research. After leaving his office that Friday afternoon, Kagome made a beeline directly to the library.

              Four hours of studying later, she was distracted by the sensation of a familiar presence before her. She looked up from her laptop screen to see a pair of sparkling blue eyes peering down at her. “Kouga-kun!” She smiled at him warmly in greeting and closed her laptop. “Are you here to study?”

              He shook his head, returning her smile in greeting. “Nah, just finishing up. I was on my way out when I saw you here.”

              “I’m just finishing too, actually. My brain hurts.”

              “I know the cure for that,” he said, a charmingly wolfish grin on his face. “Wanna grab a drink?”

              She laughed, then checked herself when someone hissed ‘Shh!’ at them from a few tables down. “Sure,” she whispered. “Give me sec to pack this up and run to the restroom.” They agreed to meet at the front door of the library.

              How odd to see him again! She dried her hands hastily and buttoned up her coat, adjusting her scarf around her neck and fixing her hair a little, all the while thinking of the last time they had been in each other’s company, outside of Naraku’s office. How long ago that felt.

              They made friendly chit-chat throughout the short walk from campus to Matsu, the izakaya they had gone to together last time. Kouga’s laughter was clear and genuine, his face earnest and delightfully unburdened, free of the lines of strain that had marked it when last they spoke.

              Once seated comfortably, a frothy glass of beer on the table before each of them, Kouga leaned back in his seat. “Seems like things are going well with Sesshoumaru?”

              Kagome blinked. “Hm?”

              “You smell like _dog_ ,” he replied, giving Kagome a conspiratorial wink.

              “Oh!” She laughed, startled. She had gotten accustomed to considering Sesshoumaru’s superior hearing, but she kept forgetting about his and Kouga’s excellent senses of smell. “No, no, it’s not quite like that. Miroku told you what happened with the arbitration, I’m guessing?”

              “Yeah,” he cast his eyes down, “I should have been there for you,” he mumbled.

              “How could you have known?” Kagome shrugged, a half-hearted smile on her face. “It was a miracle _anybody_ was there for me,” she sighed. “If my cousin hadn’t thought to reach out to Myouga-sensei, I… would in all likelihood be—” her lips pinched together, “—s _till_ be dead,” she corrected herself, and reached for her beer.

              Kouga did the same.

              “Maybe he feels responsible for bringing me back to life, after all that,” she said, heart squeezing in her chest. “But he’s been supportive since then, offering me guidance about my— well, when I’ve needed it. Nothing romantic.”

              “Hm,” was Kouga’s response, and he kept his eyes thoughtfully on hers over the rim of his beer as he took a sip. “About your reiki?”

              Kagome startled. “You knew?”

              He laughed. “Well if I didn’t know before I for sure know _now._ It’s gotten really, uh, _dense_.” He wrinkled his nose. “But yes, to answer your question. I knew it was there. You never did anything with it though. I kind of put you in the same basket as Miroku.”

              “What basket is that?” Kagome probed, utterly perplexed.

              “You know. ‘Has spiritual power somewhere in there, is not aware of it at all, and can’t do jack with it’. That basket.”

              “That’s unfair!” Kagome cried, palms flat on the table in affront.

              “I mean, don’t get mad about it,” he said, chuckling. “Plenty of people have the potential for it in them, and just nothing ever comes of it.” He shrugged. “It was honestly never enough to blip my radar when we were little, you know what I mean?”

              Kagome found it odd that he could refer to the time when ‘they were little’, him being hundreds of years her senior. But he had been little alongside her, once, so it made sense on some level.

              “This last year though… it’s grown a lot. It’s like, super prominent, now. Like _super_ prominent.”

              His eyes were on her, but she could tell it wasn’t _her_ he was looking at. Kagome looked down and peered at herself, squinting, trying to see if her reiki surrounded her the way that Sesshoumaru’s and Kouga’s did: like a semi-sentient fog. She could see a little pink, but wasn’t that just the Jewel? “Huh.”

              “But really, nothing romantic, huh?” He asked, studiously avoiding her gaze.

              She shook her head. He had sent her _one_ text message that could count as flirting, _maybe_ , but was most likely a whim of indulging her, that first night after he’d given her the manuscript. But that was it.

              “I’m not sure that I believe you,” he said, all levity gone from his voice.

              Her eyebrows scrunched. “I think I would _know_ if he was making a pass at me.”

              He laughed. “Would you?” he asked, and Kagome swallowed her indignation, Sesshoumaru’s own words springing to mind: _You know nothing._ “No offense, but you can be a little dense about that kind of stuff.”

              “Don’t be ridiculous,” Kagome said, sticking to her guns on this one after all. “You’re the one that said—” She remembered the whole of what he said, that day in her hospital room, his voice sour with heartbreak – _Sesshoumaru is a possessive fuck. He wouldn’t be coy if he was serious. He would have laid his claim in no uncertain terms when I confronted him about it._ – but she wasn’t sure which part to quote. “You said he wouldn’t be coy,” was what she settled on.

Kouga scratched the back of his neck and averted his eyes, slumping back into his seat. “I know what I said. I know what Miroku told me about what happened with Naraku was a third-hand account—”

              “Kouga-kun, stop. Really. There’s nothing romantic. And I’m not looking for excuses to get my hopes up.”

              “Okay,” he relented, studying her thoughtfully before shrugging and taking a sip from his beer. He settled it back on its coaster to trace little designs in the condensation on the glass.

              They sat in silence, studying their respective beers, each lost in their own thoughts. “It’s fine the way it is, though,” Kagome offered eventually, a hesitant but genuine smile in her eyes. “I’m happy.”

              He held his glass up and tipped it, clinking it to hers. “Then I’m happy for you.”

 

             

              That night, Kagome lay in bed, hands aloft, trying to see if she could see her reiki around her fingers, to no success. Her concentration wouldn’t hold, though, with her mind cycling back to the conversation she and Kouga had had earlier, and eventually she flopped onto her belly, one hand reaching for her phone on her nightstand.

              _I asked you before about why Naraku was obsessed with me_ , Kagome typed out. _It still bothers me._

              She sent the message and blew out a breath. If she had to wait more than a minute, she knew she didn’t need to expect any reply to come in at all – that’s just how he was, and it was one thing that had remained consistent for the duration of their acquaintance.

              Just as she was about to give up waiting, his reply arrived. _Do not concern yourself with that cur any longer. He is gone._

She sighed. _You’re right, of course._ A moment later, she added: _But it still bothers me._

              Thumb clicking the button on the side of her phone, its screen went dark. She waited. A minute passed. Rolling over onto her side, Kagome settled her phone on her sternum before flinging her forearm over her eyes. That was it, then. He told her not to concern herself, and he wasn’t going to talk anymore about the subject.

              But to her surprise, her phone began vibrating in a steady pulse, startling a panicked yelp out of her as she rocketed upright in bed. She looked at the screen, and marveled that _his name_ was displayed there, with a little phone icon underneath. Nervous now, she answered the call, bringing the phone to her ear with a sweaty hand. “Hello?”

              “I made numerous attempts to begin a response but decided that the explanation is too long for a text message, after all,” he murmured, his soft, deep voice directly in her ear. Kagome flushed crimson. “I assume you have the time to discuss it now?”

              She laughed in response. It was well past eleven. What else would she be doing? “Yes. Thank you for calling. I thought you were going to ignore me.”

              “I was,” he said, “but thought better of it. It has been several weeks now; for the matter to still concern you must mean it is important to you.”

              “Yeah.” She laid back down in bed, nestling her head on her pillow. Was this the first time they’d spoken on the phone?

              “His obsession was likely multi-factorial,” he began. “Perhaps the only part you could not have reasoned for yourself is that he has always had a preference for a certain type of woman; the raven-haired beauty. The Miko Kikyo was likely the one who started it. She was the woman he fell in love with before becoming a hanyou. Rin was another such woman. Kagura, yet another.” He paused, as though considering his next words. “The rest, you must already understand. He was also a collector of powerful objects, and consumed by the desire to obtain greater and greater power for himself. He saw your spiritual energy about you, watched as it grew… it is likely this would have been one of your greatest attractions, were it not for the Jewel.”

              Kagome glanced at her nightstand, where the Shikon no Tama lay in the little dish she always set her jewelry in. “That again.”

              “Yes. He believed the Jewel was meant for him, of course. I do not find it implausible that he should view you, as its protector, as rightfully his by extension.” She snorted, to which he made no response. A moment later, he spoke again, his voice curiously soft. “Consider then, the delightful challenge you presented in flouting and opposing him, in continuously surprising him… I am certain you made yourself irresistible.”

                Kagome swallowed thickly. Something in his tone of voice…

              “When he saw that he could not bring you to his side, he attempted to take you by force. And that is where his fate was sealed. You did well, when you struck him the last time,” there was a little indulgence in his tone, as though he were trying to pat her head with his words. “Your reiki has grown phenomenally, over the last month especially. You had better begin your training, or it will bring you trouble; it is quite _prominent_.”

              Prominent. “Huh. Kouga said the same thing earlier.”

              He was silent. Kagome’s eyes widened as she realized the words that just came out of her mouth. Why did she bring him up?

              “Have your questions been answered? Concerns allayed?”

              “Yes,” she replied, still beating herself up. “Thank you.”

              “It is late. Good night.”

              “Good night,” she replied, and hung up the phone, a bitter taste in her mouth.

             

               

 

              Kagome spent the weekend finishing her assignments and trying to put into practice some of the theory in her completed reiki manual. She would text Sesshoumaru her questions, as before; but now, something changed. At times, he would reply via text, as many times as was necessary to explain what was needed. Other times, however, he would call, talk her through her questions, without giving the slightest impression that he had anything else to do.

              She had lost any feeling of trepidation before messaging him, though she still had not gathered her bravery enough to call without announcing she would do so beforehand. In fact, they were communicating so frequently throughout the day, _every_ day, that if more than a few hours passed without some kind of notification popping up on her screen, she would start to feel like something was the matter.

              Sango had noticed Kagome’s preoccupation with her phone. Being an excellent friend, she missed exactly zero opportunities to rub Kagome’s face in it.

              “Oooooh, is that your boooooyfrieeeeeend?” She would singsong whenever Kagome’s phone so much as vibrated.

              This time, Kagome just laughed and shook her head, instead of getting instantly defensive. She was in a good mood. It was Wednesday, Christmas was two days away, coinciding beautifully with the start of winter break. “Oh!” She said in some surprise when she looked at her screen. “It’s _your_ boyfriend.”

              Now Sango turned scarlet, though her voice was unaffected when she spoke. “What’s he want?”

              Kagome leaned into the couch cushions and glanced at her friend, posture at attention on the other end of the couch. “He’s asking my advice about some Christmas plans he’s putting together.”

              “Ugh, wow, what a procrastinator,” Sango scoffed, relaxing. “Tell him I want to eat at Kappo Nakajima,” [2] she ticked off a finger, “that I don’t want any flowers, and that I have a list of jewelry I like at that one little shop over by the bookstore we go to; the cashier has it on file.”

              Kagome’s laugh was as jubilant as it was incredulous. “Roger that,” she complied. 

              “What are _you_ gonna do for Christmas?” Sango asked, voice a little sly, watching Kagome out of the corner of her eyes.

              “Probably pick up some fried chicken and cake at the combini and binge-watch a drama or something [3]. I dunno. There’s a bunch of people from our department that are going on a group date, too.”

              Sango’s expression of disgust made Kagome laugh again. “You’re not doing _anything_ with a certain—”

              “ _No_ ,” Kagome emphasized this with a glare.

              “Well, after our date, Miroku and I are catching the night bus to Gifu for the hot springs over the New Year,” Sango announced. “You’re welcome to come along?”

              “You’re sweet,” Kagome replied, “but you know I have to help out at home. Plus, who would want to tag along on a lover’s hot spring trip? Gross. Disgusting. Ugh.”

              Sango giggled and waggled her eyebrows. “We’re getting a room with a _routenburo_.”

              “Ohhhhh no. Your own private hot spring bath? Even worse.” Now Kagome was giggling. “I think you’d probably pass out if you tried to do it in the water.”

              “You never know until you try,” Sango quipped, and Kagome shook her head in disapproval, even as musical giggles bubbled from her lips.

              Christmas day found her rushing home after class was over to help resolve Sango’s outfit emergency: the dress she had picked out the night before was making her look lumpy today, and she couldn’t decide on what to wear instead. After a frantic forty-minute change-a-thon, they finally settled on an outfit just as Miroku let himself in to their apartment. The look of delight and approval on his face as he greeted his girlfriend disappeared quickly when he saw the amount of luggage she had packed for their short trip.

              “I have to take all this down and up the stairs, you know,” he complained, but shouldered her duffel bag and picked up the two carry-on suitcases before marching out of the room.

              Sango slipped on her heels and turned around to look at her friend. “You gonna be okay?”

              “It’s not my first Christmas alone,” Kagome said with a smile. “I’ll be fine. If I get bored I’ll text you.”

              “Uh-huh. If you get bored I _know_ who you’ll be texting, and it isn’t me.”

              “Shut _up_ ,” Kagome’s cheeks turned a brilliant red.

              Five minutes later, Kagome was in the apartment by herself. After the flurry of activity of the last hour, it felt a little quiet. She wandered into the living room and settled herself on the couch, propping her socked feet up on the coffee-table. With a sigh she sunk into the cushions.

              She checked her watch. Almost five.

              _Okay_ , Kagome decided, _let’s go get dinner_.

              Just as she was pulling her coat on, she got a text message. She finished dressing and locked the door behind her before checking her phone. It was from Sesshoumaru, asking if she had had any success with incorporating the breathing techniques that the manuscript described.

              _Honestly_ , she wrote in reply, _I haven’t had much time over the last few days, with schoolwork and all. But now that Sango is away for the holidays, I can spend some time working on it_.

              His response was immediate: _Do not dally_. She laughed, making her way down the stairs to the first floor of her building.

              It was windy today, so she adjusted her scarf to cover her nose, and pulled her hat down further over her ears before tucking her hands into her pockets and speed-walking the few blocks to the combini. By the time she made it through the doors, the blast of hot air like walking into an oven, her toes were tingling from the cold. She would have to add another item to her shopping list: pocket warmers.

              Despite how busy the store was around this time, there was still a good amount of chicken and cake left in the Christmas Food display in the back. Kagome picked up a small container of chicken and a double-sized container of the strawberry cream cake before wandering through the other aisles to grab the rest of the things on her list.

              The pocket warmers, shoved into her shoes, made a difference on the walk back, but snot still ran down her face once she warmed up inside. The chicken was disappointing, but the cake was good. Merry Christmas.

              Poised on the living room couch once more, Kagome tucked her legs underneath her and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

              The air whooshed out of her lungs in a rush when her phone chimed. Eyes popping open, Kagome looked down at the screen, and seeing Sesshoumaru’s name on the alert, picked it up. What did he have to say?

              _Any success_?

              Kagome smiled. _I’m working on it,_ she replied. She set the phone down beside her on the cushions, took a deep breath in, and closed her eyes. Slowly, she released her breath, focusing on the movement of her chest wall, the pushing down of her diaphragm. She breathed in again.

              And her phone chimed.

              Kagome laughed a little as she picked it up, again seeing Sesshoumaru’s name on her screen. He offered some advice, noting that it might be useful to visualize the flow of air outwards at a constant rate. She replied with: _Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind._

This time, when she exhaled, she imagined her exhalation like water flowing through a pipe, with a smooth and leisurely pace. She drew her breath out to the point where she almost got light-headed, and wasn’t sure if the tingles she was feeling was due to her reiki, or due to almost passing out. Frustrated, she breathed in deeply and tried again.

              After several slow, even, long breaths out, she felt like maybe she could feel the charge of electricity in her fingertips. One more deep breath in, and just at the cusp of where she began to exhale, she _felt it_. A tremulous, static-y sensation skittered against her skin, and it grew in intensity as the breath left her lungs.

              Her phone chimed.

              Kagome let the rest of her breath go and picked up the offensive device, brows furrowing. She scoffed when she read Sesshoumaru’s message: _Well?_

              _I’d probably be doing better if you weren’t texting and interrupting me every three seconds,_ she replied, feeling utterly harassed.

              _Allow me to offer a solution to that_ , came his reply. Then: _Open your door._

              Kagome stopped breathing. She glanced up from the phone to the front door of her apartment, then back down to her screen. She re-read the message, then, heart stuttering in her chest, got off the couch and made her way to the door. How did he—Oh, right. He had her address from before, when he mailed her recommendation letter.

              Combing her fingers through her hair and glancing down at what she was wearing, Kagome flushed scarlet in consternation. She was dressed comfortably, in red and grey-striped pajama bottoms and a blank tank-top, with a chunky grey knit sweater wrapped around her. Comfy, but _not_ cute. _But it’s not like I can run and change_ , she grumbled to herself.

              Sucking in a deep breath, Kagome opened the door.

              Sesshoumaru.

              Leaning against the wall opposite the entrance to her apartment, he was immaculate, with his dark jeans and black wool pea coat, silver hair tidily pulled back, and a wide scarf slung over his shoulders. His expression was blank, but his eyes warmed considerably once they landed on her face. He righted himself. As he approached, his appearance changed, human features melting away, youkai markings coming into prominence.  

              Kagome stepped back to allow him in. He breezed past her, smelling of winter air and his crisp cologne, making his way into the genkan where he removed his shoes and hung up his coat and scarf. True to form, he was wearing a white button-down shirt under his winter trappings, with the sleeves rolled up to just under the elbows. Kagome traced the lines of his forearm with her gaze, again marveling at the magenta stripes that angled down toward his wrists. He preceded her into the apartment, glancing about as though appraising her living arrangements.

              “Ah—can I offer you some coffee?” Kagome managed, finding her words.  He inclined his head and followed as Kagome bustled into the kitchen to load up the coffee machine. She ignored the feeling that he was watching her, trying to set aside her nervousness. This was the first time he was in her home – her 2LDK was much smaller than his expansive apartment, and his presence seemed to fill the room in way that none of her other guests ever had, making it feel infinitely tinier.

              When the coffee pot was on, she turned around and showed him to the living room. He followed her again, still silent. Once beside the coffee table, he paused before taking a seat. One finger indicating the plastic tray with the chicken bones and the small dish with the last crumbs of the cake, he finally spoke. “I stopped at the convenience store to procure the traditional Christmas meal as an amends for interrupting you, but you had already purchased them, and nothing else in the store seemed appropriate,” his voice was a bit more tentative than usual; it was the closest to uncertain she had ever heard him. He took a seat beside her on the couch.

              “How did you know I had already purchased them?”

              “Your scent was next to the display.”

              Kagome nodded in understanding, remembering again that he also had a phenomenal sense of smell. “Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask. If your nose is so good, how is it you can stand to wear cologne?”

              “Hn,” he said on a puff of air, corners of his lips lifting upward. “A perceptive inquiry. Inuyoukai are not the only species with superlative olfactory senses,” he replied. “As industrialization increasingly polluted the air, a market emerged for a way to filter out those noxious odors. The cologne does not impede my sense of smell, rather, it is _because_ of this cologne that I may tolerate the air within the city. I have grown sufficiently accustomed to its scent that it escapes my notice.”

              “Huh.” She stewed over that one. Kouga, being a canine-type youkai, would have a similar problem too. Did he wear a cologne? _Yeah_ , she realized. _He always smelled kind of piney._ The coffee machine beeped, and Kagome got up to fetch their drinks. She saw immediately that she should have washed the dishes. All that was left were three mugs: hers, with a pattern of blue bears, a white one with a design of little duckies running around the bottom, and a pink one with the words “World’s Okayest Sister” on it.  Duckies it was.

To his credit, his only reaction was a slight twitch of the eyebrow when she presented him with the cutesy cup; but even this put a large mirthful smile on her face.

              She settled beside him on the couch, allowing herself to marvel at his presence in her space for only a moment before she refocused on coming up with some clever and interesting thing to say that would break the ice between them. In the end, she settled on taking a sip of her coffee and panicking internally, because she was straight out of ideas.

              Sesshoumaru, for his part, placidly followed her lead, taking a drink of the steaming beverage and then setting the mug carefully down on the coffee table on one of the wooden coasters there. He must have taken pity on her, for he was the one to break the silence. “Now you need not worry that I will text you to interrupt, as I am here to do so in person,” he pronounced, and Kagome scoffed out a disbelieving laugh. Was that a joke? “Please, continue your practice. I shall observe.”

              “Okay.”  She crossed her legs below her and settled into the cushions. Eyes closed, she began her breathing again.

              The first task, from what she had put together from Sesshoumaru’s father’s manuscript, was to become familiar with the feeling her reiki, such that she could bring it about at command. Breathing was supposed to help clear the mind and focus it on her bodily sensations, so she could identify where within her body her reiki lived, and how it felt as it ‘woke’ and moved about within her. Right now, she was absolute shit at doing this, but she felt like she was getting better at it. Maybe.

              And of course, she knew she would do phenomenally well at it _now_ , with Sesshoumaru in the room next to her, _observing_ her. Of _course_. Rolling her eyes under her lids, Kagome tried to focus.

              Breath in, then out.

              A good minute of breathing went by before she was finally able to tune out the environmental distractions and really get into the feeling of her breath, the sensation of her reiki. Another minute or so passed before she could feel that surging, sparkling awareness hopping toward her fingertips. It always ended up in her hands, but she couldn’t really tell where it started.

              She squished her eyelids down, face scrunching in concentration, and though her breathing remained even and regular, _pushed_ within her mind. If she could get a little bit more flowing, maybe she could follow it upstream. Her hands were becoming hot with the reiki gathering there, but she attended instead to tracing the line of reiki up her arms and past her shoulders, to –

              “Nn,” Sesshoumaru’s deep grunt met her ears just as his hands closed over hers, and the pent-up reiki in her fingertips snapped up in defense against the youki in his.

              Her eyes opened in time to see the smoke rising between them, carrying the scent of burnt flesh, and she pulled her hands from his in horror. “Oh! Are you okay? Let me see!” She reached for him again, and he placated her, turning his hands over to expose his palms.

              They were red and black, burn blisters already weltering up on his skin. She gasped, but he tutted and shook his head. “Already healing,” he comforted, and she watched in fascination as the scalds receded and the color returned slowly to normal.

              She gaped up at him, at a complete loss for words. Eventually, because she had to say something, she settled on, “Why did you _do_ that?”

              He let out a little huff of what could be laughter or exasperation, or probably a bit of both. “It was starting to sting,” he said, and seeing he needed to explain further, clarified, “the build-up of so much reiki in such a near vicinity. I simply extinguished it.”

              Kagome, whose eyes were locked on his hands for the duration of this speech, looked up to him. A faint pink in his cheeks and around his irises jarred her even further. She’d seen that look before. “Are you—are you _turned on_?” she gasped.

              He shrugged, disentangling his hands from hers and placing them primly in his lap, though he did not separate himself from her on the couch. He stared down at the coffee table for a moment, and as he did so, Kagome puzzled through her observations. _I guess,_ she reflected, _the last time we did it…_ she blushed scarlet, remembering the heat in his eyes after she had pushed his youki away from her, and the indecent activities that had followed.

              “I have puzzled over it as well. Though it has been decades since my last encounter with a Miko, and certainly centuries at least since meeting with one possessed of strength like yours, you are unique in eliciting these responses.” His golden eyes flicked back up to her as he slowly traversed the space between them with his hand. His fingers gently clasped around hers.

              Kagome felt the surge of his youki around her, tangling around her legs and pressing in on her from all sides. She had never thought of him using his youki to _caress_ her, but that’s what this felt like. Even more oddly, this was a familiar sensation – she had felt it numerous times before, as they passed each other silently in the hallways during the time they’d been ignoring each other. This felt explicitly intentional, but… is that what he had been doing then? She gasped and met his gaze, blushing hotly when she read the intention in his half-lidded eyes.

              “Perhaps I am not alone in my affliction,” he surmised, rough voice pitched low.

              Her lashes fluttered as he leaned in, head tilting slightly. He pressed his lips gently to hers once, twice, and then touched his forehead to hers as he breathed out a sigh.

              As delicious as his affection felt, Kagome would not fall into the same pattern again. These kisses had been so tender, so _undemanding_ … but hadn’t he kissed her like that before, once, when he was playing with her feelings? “I thought I told you not to do this to me again,” Kagome managed around the tightness in her throat.

              His grip on her fingers tightened, and he lowered his forehead to rest on her shoulder. Why wasn’t he pulling away? Instead of bristling at her reprimand, he brought her closer to him.  He turned his head slightly, his nose pressing against her neck, and she felt him sigh again. Slowly, he disengaged himself from her, though he kept his hold on her hand.

              He held her gaze for a long time, but Kagome had the distinct impression that he wasn’t really seeing her, but rather thinking through what he wanted to say. His focused sharpened minutely, pupils constricting and eyes flickering over her face. He spoke. “You are seeking assurances that this is not a repetition of what has occurred before. That I am not merely satisfying my curiosity; that this is not a passing fancy.”

              Kagome blinked, lips parting.

              “It is not,” he asserted, accompanying the statement with a squeeze of her fingers.

              “Is that—” Kagome started, repeating to herself what he just said, over and over again, trying to make sure she had heard correctly, half refusing to believe she had. “Are you saying you—”

              His lips against hers silenced the words on her tongue.

              For a split second she could not move or think. All that she could feel was the blissful explosion of joy, warmth shooting from her heart to the tips of her toes, at this revelation. _Not a passing fancy_. She smiled into his kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could manage.

              His arms wound around her, returning her embrace. He kissed her, and kissed her again. His soft lips pressed gently against hers, then against her cheeks and cheekbones, then her jawline, before trailing back to her lips. Kagome shyly pressed her tongue outwards, and he met it with his own. Sweet, tender kisses turned into passionate, wet kisses. His hands trailed down her back to her rump as he pulled her into his lap.

              Then, all at once, he hefted her into his arms and stood, lips still caressing hers. Kagome thought for a second to pull away from him so she could direct him to her bedroom, but she found she had no need to – he walked unhesitatingly through her apartment, directly to her door, as though he’d been there a million times before. Again, she remembered that he had a phenomenal sense of smell.

              This was her last coherent thought.

              He lowered her onto the bed, his fingers curling around the waistband of her underwear and sweatpants together and pulling them from her legs in a smooth movement, tossing them to the side. She kicked off her slippers, but that was all she managed before he gripper her bottom and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He lowered himself to his knees before her, clawed fingers trailing tickling paths down the outsides of her thighs toward her knees.

              His golden eyes peered up at her, his beautiful face awash in moonlight. He gripped her knees and moved her legs open, running his fingers slowly up her inner thighs to her core. Kagome shivered, the caress sending goosebumps rising on her skin, the cool air around her chilling her now partially exposed body. His eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned in to her left knee, planting kiss after kiss on her thigh, running up the inside toward her center.

              Kagome put her hands down on the mattress and sucked in a breath, leaning back a little to grant him better access, but still high enough that she could watch. When he reached the place she wanted him most, he hovered there, his hot breath puffing against her skin. His fingers delicately pet her mons, running over her labia in a little caress, before he spread her open before him.

              Face still close, warming her with his breath, his finger traced a path from her clitoris down, collecting the moisture that had begun weeping from her, spreading it around on its way back up to tease her bud. Over and over he did this, fingers brushing past her clit gently on one turn, then pressing hard against it on the next. Kagome squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, feeling _so good_ , and wanting _so much more_ , and just when she shut her eyes, she felt it.

              The hot, wet drag of his tongue, from bottom to top, followed by the closing of his lips around her erect clit. Kagome gasped. He applied a gentle suction, tip of his tongue lapping at it intermittently, while his fingers traveled down to insinuate itself within her. He brought about her first orgasm with startling efficiency. As soon as he had entered her, he worked her G-spot with the pad of finger, increasing the suction of his lips and tongue against her clit incrementally to match the intensity of his caress. This set the warmth to building up inside of her—what took her over the edge, however, was the frenetic movement of his youki around her, pressing against her skin and lapping at her like waves underwater. One well-timed lick of his tongue in combination with the youki’s pressure against her, and she came undone, stars sparkling behind her eyelids.

              By the time that she had recovered her breathing, he was naked beside her on the bed, pulling her on top of him. She raked her fingernails down his chest and over his abdominals before grabbing his weeping erection, pumping it slowly in her hands before placing him at her entrance, teasing herself with him, rubbing him against her wetness. Her line of sight had been on her work before, but now with him in place, they flicked to his face, surprised to see him with moist lips parted, a rosy hue in his cheeks, and his eyes rapturous on hers.

              She slowed her ministrations, seeing his passion and losing the desire to hurry. She wanted to draw this out for him. Straddling him as she was, she lowered herself until she was sitting on his lap, his member pressed tightly to her core as it jutted upwards between them. Using her own juices as lubrication, she massaged him from base to tip, running her thumb over the crown of his cock in a tantalizingly slow circle before tracing the underside of the ridge of the head, and then the frenulum.

              He grunted as she set up a rhythm, his hips thrusting upwards slightly into her hand each time it began descending over his length. But he did not let her tease him this way for long. Before she could really get a hang on the timing, he reached for her and grabbed her hips, lifting her bodily from his lap and poising her over his erection.

              She brought her hands to his shoulders for balance, and he craned his neck up to kiss her just as his hands lowered her onto him. Kagome sighed her pleasure as he filled her to the hilt, grinding her down onto him until she was seated tight up against his pelvis, and panting from the uncomfortable but exciting sensation of his bottoming out inside of her. When his kiss ended and they pulled apart, Kagome was able to look down at him and see him – as he _truly_ was – for the first time. Magenta stripes over his hips and angling toward his pelvis, pristine and unmarked skin, surprising for a warrior of his experience. Still incredibly beautiful.

              Hands wrapped around her hips, he guided her movement as she ground against him. Try as she might, she couldn’t get a good angle to put the pressure on her clit that it ached for; he seemed to sense her frustration, and snuck a hand between them to pluck and press on the quivering bundle of nerves. All at once, every sensation became unbearable. His cock so large and deep within her, stretching her from the inside, grinding against her G spot and bumping her cervix, and the press of his finger to her clit, the dragging of her hardened nipples against his chest…

              A long, low moan on each outbreath, Kagome pressed her forehead to his shoulder, as she continued to rock over him, her hypersensitized body quickly coiling in on itself as another orgasm built. His grip on her waist was nearly bruising, as he began to snap his hips up to meet hers when her moaning began. She could feel it; inside her, she opened before collapsing inward, the feedback loop of contractions spasming within her, caressing and massaging his length. He stopped moving, eyes closed and brow furrowed, fingers twitching on her waist. He held perfectly still within her as she came, a satisfied grunt escaping his lips only once before he returned to complete stillness.

              Kagome felt the world begin turning again. Sesshoumaru had rearranged them, laying her on her back on the mattress, torso hovering over her, still buried deep within her. When her eyes focused on him, he began to move again, sliding into her in a luxuriant pace. Each time he pulled back until he nearly completely withdrew before pressing forward once more until she squeezed around him to the root. His silken hair caught the moonlight, glimmering, as it cascaded around them like a curtain. She was coming down from her previous release, and one breath later he was building her back up, the pressure already starting to mount within her.

              Sesshoumaru’s raised himself upright, spreading her legs wider with one hand. The other flitted from one breast to the other, then traced up to her collarbone. His fingers wrapped gently around her neck – no pressure at first, and then a little squeeze before releasing her to toy with her nipples again. Kagome gasped in pleasure, her own hand flitting to where his had been at her neck. He smirked, pushed her hand aside with his own, and wrapped his fingers around her. He wasn’t choking her; the slight amount of pressure felt surprisingly good, and Kagome closed her eyes as she groaned.

              His eyes closed too, and his rhythm stuttered a little. Kagome’s lids flitted up so she could watch the furrowing of his brow, the sheen of sweat over his smooth, pale skin. He groaned, quickening his pace a little, and slumped forward onto his hands, one on either side of her head. She wanted to come with him. She snaked a hand down between them and rubbed at herself frantically, trying to catch up. The feeling of him inside her and over her, the press of his skin to hers, the puffing of his breath on her neck and the sweet pain in his groan all worked in concert to wind her back up just in time.

              He shuddered over her, hips snapping and stilling, then moving again, as he came within her. She could feel the hot current of his seed as it filled her, his cock churning it inside her as he continued his small thrusts, seeking the last delicious sensation of pleasure as he orgasm passed. He collapsed over her, his weight and heat welcome in the cold room, then rolled onto his side and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Kagome pressed her forehead to his chest, feeling the throbbing of his heart as it made his entire chest wall move, and sighed her contentment. Lips to the crown of her head like a butterfly kiss, he murmured a single word. “Sleep.”

              Entirely spent, they did just that.

             

             

 

              Kagome woke up to the feeling of Sesshoumaru pulling her body back into his, burying his nose in her hair. His fingers were trailing a path up her thigh toward her hip, then back down toward her knee. She sighed, stretching her arms outward before turning in his embrace to rest her head against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her continuing his tickling caress on her arm this time.

              His chest wall moved with the strength of the beating of his heart. Kagome pressed a hand to her own chest, feeling her own pulse. The bliss was still in there.

              “What made you change your mind?” she asked, soft voice loud in the quiet of the room.

              “Hm?” The vibration of his chest along with his voice was a little uncomfortable, and she moved her head to rest on his shoulder instead.

              “You were so dead-set against me,” she explained, “and I doubt it was my charm that wore you down. So what was it?”

              Sesshoumaru sighed. “It is… complicated.”

              Kagome tilted her head to look up at him, though from this angle she saw the angle of his jaw more than anything else. “We have time,” she murmured in encouragement, and wrapped her arm tighter around him.

              “My sire had a human lover,” he began. His father, Toga, the Great Dog General, had been fascinated with humans. His notes and observations on their customs encompassed far more than the sheaf of papers on spiritual practices which Sesshoumaru had loaned to Kagome. He had met and fallen for a human princess named Izayoi, and together they begot a son, “my half-brother, Inuyasha.”

              “Kouga-kun told me a little about him,” Kagome said. “He sounded quite different from you.”

              “He took after our father,” Sesshoumaru explained, “in many ways.” Inuyasha was brash, impulsive, and petulant, all traits he had inherited from their sire. Added to this, he was uncouth and vulgar, traits he had cultivated on his own. Kagome stifled a laugh at this. “Inuyasha too had a human lover. You know the name. Rin.”    

              “They ended up together, then?”

              “Hn.” He shifted his position a little, turning onto his side so that he could nuzzle the top of Kagome’s head. “Like our eminent sire, it was his love of a human woman that brought about his end. In the half-breed’s case, twice.” He explained that Toga had perished in protecting Izayoi against a jealous suitor, when her pregnancy with Inuyasha had been discovered. That Inuyasha had, in turn, been pinned to a tree by his first human lover, Kikyo, who had been turned against him by Naraku’s machinations. And that, though he and Rin lived many happy years together, once she had passed, Inuyasha became a shell of his former self. He became lost in his grief, which did not abate for centuries. Finally, several hundred years after her passing, unable to bear the passage of another day without her, Inuyasha challenged a vastly more powerful demon to battle, and brought about his own end.

              “Their love of humans led to their weakness, and eventually to their deaths.” He sighed. “Weakness is – you may have perceived this – to me, abhorrent. I detested my father, and my half-brother in turn, for sullying our family name, for their _pathetic_ inability to resist the lure of a beautiful human woman, for losing their lives in the name of that which had brought them so low.”

              His honesty was impressive, though his words were a little hurtful.

              “However…” He trailed off. “Once, my father asked me if I had someone to protect. I told him I had no need of such things.” Sesshoumaru fell silent again. “My inheritance upon his death, the Tenseiga, was ever useless to me. But… the mere implication from Myouga that you might be in danger was enough to spur me to act.” His fingers stilled on her arm, then started their caresses again before stuttering to another stop. “When Naraku attacked you, I felt a fear I had never known. You died. And knowing that in my hands I held the power to return you to the world of the living… for the first time, my father’s gift to me became a cherished possession.” Now, his fingers tightened around her arm, and he pulled her in closer to him.

              “I could not but acknowledge that, in bringing you back to life, I too was giving in to my weakness. Without my noticing it, you had become someone to protect.” The sting of his calling her ‘his weakness’ was soothed by his shuddering sigh as he pulled back to push her bangs from her forehead, and the delicate, sweet kiss he planted there.

              Kagome tilted her head up, and he kissed her again, softly, on her lips. She smiled into his kiss. _Not a passing fancy. My weakness. Someone to protect._ As he continued to pepper her lips and face with kisses, she mused that this was probably as close to a confession of affection as she would get. But she couldn’t really bring herself to mind; it was so like him. 

              His hand on her back trailed down and up her spine, lowering to the globes of her ass and groping her lecherously. Kagome giggled, turning her head to the side, and he attacked her neck with his lips, turning them so that she was on her back beneath him again. He nibbled and sucked at her pulse point, then down the side of her neck to her collarbone. He separated his body from hers a little to peer down at her neck and the intensity in his gaze concerned her.

              “It didn’t bruise, did it?”

              “No,” he replied, tracing a finger down her sternocleidomastoid muscle to the notch at the center of her clavicle. “I find your fragility fascinating.”

              She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “Oh?”

              “But though fragile, _you_ are not weak.” His finger trailed down her sternum, now.

              Kagome remembered his comment about finding weakness abhorrent, and was glad she didn’t fit into that category, in his eyes.

              His finger had reached her bellybutton. It circled the landmark once before stopping its travel south. “I could snap your neck with a flick of my wrist,” he said, voice low and smooth, seductive in tone though the words frightened her. “Melt your flesh with my poison. Turn you into dust with my sword.” His golden eyes peered into hers. Kagome fought to suppress a shudder. “But harming you is unthinkable to me. No other holds that honor – you alone are safe from me.”

              “Is that… a compliment?” She asked, the fires of arousal thoroughly extinguished at this point.

              He blinked, expression perplexed for a fleeting moment. “Did you not think it so?”

              Kagome let out a little giggle. “I mean, I guess technically ‘I wouldn’t kill you’ is a compliment.” She touched her finger to his sternum and mimicked the movement he had been making earlier. “In that case, you should know that I would _never_ intentionally purify you.”

              “Ah,” he said, a dark twist to his lips catching her attention, “now _that_ would be a shame.”

              Startled, Kagome stared up at him. “A shame?”

              “Mm,” he replied, closing his hand around her finger where it prodded his chest. “I quite enjoy the sensation of your power.”

              Kagome blushed scarlet and averted her eyes, avoiding his incisive gaze. “Then how about ‘I would never purify you _to death_ ’? Is that better?”

              His deep, throaty laugh snapped her eyes back to his face, and her whole body thrummed with the pleasure of seeing such a genuine and delightful smile on his face. His expression turned indulgent as he brushed his knuckles along her jawline. “If the idea that you could ever accomplish such a feat comforts you, feel free to continue in your delusion.”

              Was this his version of flirting? Now she laughed.

              “I suppose you would rather hear effusive panegyrics devoted to your beauty, perhaps?”

              There was a hint of something behind that question that gave her pause. He had shown her who he truly was—now he was offering to be somebody else, to satisfy her vanity. She didn’t want that. She shook her head. “No—that would be so unlike you it would _totally_ creep me out.”

              His eyes sparkled briefly. He released the grip he had held on her finger.    Silence fell between them as they looked at each other, him still hovering over her, each lost in their own thoughts.

              Eventually Kagome asked, “It doesn’t hurt? You enjoy it?”

              “There is pain,” he admitted. “But the sensation is fleeting. And the adrenaline it produces is quite euphoric. I find myself craving the feeling.”

              “Sounds like getting a tattoo, or a piercing,” Kagome thought aloud. He shrugged. “Your markings, are they—”

              “ _No_ ,” was his emphatic reply. “These are the markings of my lineage.” He touched a finger to his cheek, then tilted his face in invitation. Kagome reached up, doing what she had desired but had not dared to attempt: trace the edges of the stripes, feel the subtle change in texture of his skin. “My father,” he said, and then guided her fingertips to his brow, to touch the blue crescent partially hidden by his bangs. “My mother.”

              “Is that where the last name ‘Aotsuki’ came from?” she asked, drawing her fingers away from his face.

              “It is referential, and the name I have been using recently, though we had no need for family names in those days.”

               Probably not. A name like _Sesshoumaru_ didn’t seem like it would _ever_ have been common enough to need the clarification of a last name. The idea of having to clear up _which_ Sesshoumaru one referred to made her laugh. “What other names have you used?” she asked, more curious than she would like to admit.

              But instead of answering, he lowered himself to his elbows, leaned down and placed a little kiss on her forehead. “Until we were distracted by conversation, I was planning on seducing you.”

              “Oh.” Her curiosity disappeared immediately. Kagome fluttered her lashes and touched her fingers lightly to his shoulder. “I hope your plans haven’t changed.”

              His smile was self-satisfied as he lowered his lips once more to hers, capturing them in a passionate kiss. The flames of arousal which had died out before exploded back to life within her. Kagome felt his hand finally finish the course it had started, from her bellybutton, dipping below to tease and titillate her most sensitive spot. She sighed against his lips and buried her hands into his hair.

              It was not long before the quiet of the room disappeared, giving way to their gasping, moaning, panting. Sesshoumaru reared up, taking himself in hand, and pressed forward just enough so that the tip of his engorged phallus sunk inside of her, before withdrawing. He continued these torturous, shallow thrusts, eyes glazed over in lust, but apparently not in any hurry to finish.

              “Sesshoumaru,” she groaned, trying to rock her hips so that she might take more of him inside of her, but his hands came down and held her still. As a concession, he adjusted his grip so that one of his thumbs could graze delicately against her clit, but the pressure was so infuriatingly light that all it did was increase her torment. “Sesshoumaru!” she cried in agitation, and his victorious smile turned a little predatory, as finally he sheathed himself to the hilt.

              Kagome’s hands fluttered to her belly, pushing his out of the way so she could seek her own release. He allowed it, and began his work in earnest – deep, long strokes pistoning in and out. Where her palm was situated, she could feel the head of his cock bumping against her, pushing the wall of her abdomen up and into her hand. She groaned.

              Sesshoumaru grunted when she put pressure on her palm down against the soft skin of her abdomen, effectively increasing the resistance to the movement of his thrusts. He rearranged his grip again, wrapping his hands around behind her, grasping the globes of her ass tightly, kneading them each time he surged forward into her.

              She was still full of his cum from the last time they had made love, and the squelching, wet sounds arising between them seemed incredibly lewd. Kagome’s fingers increased the pace in which they circled her clit, her hips snapping up against Sesshoumaru’s to encourage him to speed things up. She was close.

              He was eager to give her what she sought. His leisurely pace became shallower and quicker, and he adjusted his angle to tease and bump at her G spot with each pass. Kagome’s heart felt like it might explode. The tightening tension inside her reached its peak, and her breath stopped, choking in her throat as the fireworks went off. Sesshoumaru continued move within her, forcing her through her orgasm quickly and winding her back up for her next one.

              In a sudden move, he withdrew, and unceremoniously flipper her over onto her stomach. She felt him pull away, then felt the heat of his breath against the sensitive skin of her vulva. Startled, she craned her neck, trying to look over her shoulder. With a finger, he dove into her, then rubbed the combination of her natural lubricant and the remnants of his cum into the skin around her hole. A moment later, his palms planted on either side of her torso, and he entered her once more.

              He had resumed his leisurely pace—filling her completely and grinding against her before retreating. He traced a path with his lips and tongue from one of her shoulders to the other and back, then along the side of her neck, burying his nose there. She felt rather than heard his soft sigh, his body stilling as he took in her scent.

              It was like a fire ignited within him. He righted himself and set a frenetic pace, sac swinging forward and slapping against her clit as he slammed into her. Kagome’s body jerked forward with the force of his penetration, and she reared back into him, trying to match his pace.

              A hot puff of air against her shoulder as he slumped back over her, groaning her name. “Kagome…” his hips did not stop, cock continuing its steady plundering of her body. Suddenly his movement slowed, an on a groan, he withdrew from her, just in time for Kagome to feel the splattering of his cum against the outside of her labia. He rubbed his cock against her for the merest moment before he pushed inside her again, resuming as if he had not just cum all over her.

              His arm wrapped around her and fingers reached down to pluck at her clit once more. Kagome was barely keeping it together at this point. She was a panting mess, nearly cross-eyed with pleasure. The pressure of his fingers and the rhythm of his thrusts had her coming undone once again. As she sucked in a breath, staving off her orgasm, she focused on the movement of her breath, and felt the surprising response of a rush of reiki tingling in her fingers. Inspired, Kagome grabbed at his forearms on either side of her body, and let the reiki go, just as he ground into her G spot and sent her over the brink. He was not long behind her; he gasped as her reiki shocked him, and fell still. She fluttered and pulsing around him, her spiritual energy bit into his arms, and he lost himself to his release.

              For the second time that night, they collapsed in a pile of tangle limbs, curled up together with bodies still connected, and gave in to sleep.

             

 

 

 

              They woke several times throughout the night, each time falling into each other’s rapturous embrace, then drifting to sleep, sated and content and glowing with happiness. Kagome slept particularly deeply as night gave way to morning, only waking to the strong smell of coffee and a handle gently pressing on her shoulder.

              “Sesshoumaru?”

              “Good morning,” he said, perched on the edge of the bed beside her, fully dressed and perfectly composed. “It is nearly eleven.”

              Kagome stretched luxuriantly in bed, then sat up to gratefully receive the coffee he had brought her. “Thank you,” she murmured, bringing the mug to her lips.

              He watched her for a moment, an indulgent smile on his face. “We were distracted last night,” he said, eyes on Kagome’s cheeks as they turned crimson, “and did not progress far in your training. Have you any plans for today?”

              She shook her head, joy illuminating her smile as she replayed what had been said the night before, and as she realized that he was asking to spend time together again today.

              “Perhaps we may continue where we left off,” he said, eyes darkening.

              Kagome laughed jubilantly in response. “Do you mean the training or the distracting?” she teased, one hand setting the mug on her nightstand.

              “Dress,” he replied simply, mussing her hair a little. “I will arrange breakfast.”

              He left the room unhurriedly, and Kagome went about her ablutions, including taking a good ten minutes to hop into the shower and clean off. He had apparently helped himself to the shower ahead of her, the clean guest towel previously folded in the linen closet now damp and hanging on an unused hook behind the door to dry. Once toweled off and dressed, she entered the living room, feeling a bit shy.

              H was lounging casually on the couch, cellphone in hand. He glanced up as she approached, straightening to allow space for her beside him on the cushions. A plate with toast and jam was on the coffee table before the seat he had made for her. Nothing was said as she dug into her toast, but the silence was comfortable. When she set the emptied plate back down on the table and turned to face him, he reached over and brushed a crumb from her chin. Kagome’s cheeks colored prettily but she said nothing about it.

              Instead, she opted to ask about something she’d been tossing around while she was in the shower. “So if training my reiki is so important, why did you antagonize Himi-sama the way you did?”

              He looked at her askance before setting his phone down. “How were you planning to commute so far out of the city for your training and remain a student?”

              Kagome’s brows raised. “I hadn’t thought it through that far, to be honest,” she admitted. After a beat, she realized his deflection. “That’s not why though, is it?” He said before that he did not lie. But he wasn’t shy about misleading her if it suited him.

              “…It is not,” he acknowledged. “After your display of power, I knew something must be done. I had also accepted my desire to… become closer to you. My father’s notes served as an excellent pretext, in that they were necessary for your training and provided me the opportunity to see you, but your cousin’s planning removed the need for them. Perhaps my machinations were beneath me… you would have rejected her teachings regardless.”

              She laughed a little as she nodded. He had done it to make an opening for himself to reach out to her? _Cute_. “You’re not wrong. Two seconds with her and I couldn’t stand her. Just ignoring him like that! And how could she be so _prejudiced_? Ichiro-san’s mother is just the same way. I can’t make space in my life for people like that,” she grumbled.

              The small release of air from his nose, that little ‘hn’ she had grown so familiar with, set a private little smile on her face.

              “You said in the last little while, my reiki’s gotten pretty dense, right?” She twirled a finger in her hair and slouched deeper into her cushions. “I’ve noticed it a bit too. The Jewel shining a bit brighter… that’s from the influence of my reiki, right?” He nodded in response. “I can’t see it, really, but I can tell it’s been growing much faster than before.” She asked then if he had any ideas why.

              “I suspect it has to do with your death,” he replied, effectively killing the conversation. Because what could she say after that?

              But maybe she didn’t quite feel like getting to work just yet. “What comes next?” she asked. “Once I learn to control this reiki, then what? How do I use it to protect the jewel?”

              He shrugged. “Ideally, you must cultivate it to the point of being able to purify the Jewel, then doing so and ridding the world of its existence.”

              She blinked. “It’s good to have goals, I guess,” she said on a nervous laugh. “Short of that, what then?”

              He gave her a long look, displeasure twisting his lips downward. “There is _nothing_ short of that. You must succeed. Unless you prefer to find a means of stifling your power, so as to allow the Shikon no Tama to remain inert?”

              “Oh, um—” though she had only even been aware of the reiki within her for a few short months, now, the thought of burying it, of burying that part of herself, felt intensely painful. “—No, that’s fine. I’ll work hard.”

              “Hn,” he pronounced, apparently forgiving her. 

              She settled more comfortably into the cushions and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. Sesshoumaru’s youkai cleared out from around her, which helped her concentration. As with the night before, she traced the path of her reiki from her fingertips toward its source, whose location she could not quite pin down.

              For the next several hours, she struggled. Unlike the day before where she had been able to hold on to her reiki long enough to trace it backwards, this time no matter what she did, she was unsuccessful. They broke for lunch and tried again, only to make little progress. When Kagome’s frustration would grow unmanageable, Sesshoumaru would calm her via his youki, each time reprimanding her for losing herself to her emotions. He was truly a stoic, whereas Kagome lived life like a leaf upon the water, moving with the tide of her feelings.

              It took some serious effort on both sides throughout the afternoon to maintain their equanimity; they had never worked this closely together, and the new dynamic was taking some adjusting to.

              When finally they stopped for the day, it was nearly five thirty. Kagome’s stomach rumbled, and Sesshoumaru offered immediately to take them out for dinner. “A proper meal this time,” he murmured, and Kagome realized that the only meals they had shared thus far were convenience store bento.

              “Okay,” Kagome agreed, stretching in place. “I’ll tidy this up,” she said, referring to the scattered papers and the abandoned dishes from her cobbled-together breakfast. “Would you mind grabbing my purse for me? It’s on my desk.”

              Wordlessly he stood and headed toward the bedroom. Kagome sorted the stack of papers, notes on Toga-sama’s manuscript, then took the dishes to the kitchen and washed and dried them. When by the time she was done, Sesshoumaru had not returned, Kagome called his name, heading into her room herself.

              “Sesshoumaru?”

              He was standing before her desk, eyes fixed on the fortune she had pinned on the corkboard on the wall. He turned to acknowledge her entry into the room briefly, before returning his gaze to it. “What is this?” He asked.

              “Oh, that?” Kagome stepped up beside him. “It’s an Omikuji fortune. It’s a tradition to draw a fortune at the start of the year. My family runs a shrine – did you know that? – and this was the one I drew on my New Year’s visit home.” She peered up at him. “Do youkai not have traditions like that?”

              “There are soothsayers, of course, who will tell your fortune, but nothing quite like this. May I?” She nodded her permission and he unpinned it, holding the wrinkled paper delicately in his hands. “Was it accurate?”

              “Ugh. Oh, yes. Super accurate, actually. All of them.” She read through the list, eyes stopping on the last one – the _marriage proposal_ one – which was so far-fetched at this point that it still made her laugh. “Well. The last one—” she started to tell him so, and then began berating herself when she realized immediately what her traitorous mouth was about to say, “—I mean. Um. There’s five days left in the year, so—” Wait. Wasn’t that implying she was _expecting a_ — “What I mean is that it’s been a super accurate fortune.” She bit her lip and shut her mouth before she could shove her foot any further up into it.

              He was silent for a long time before he eventually brought the paper back up to the board and repinned it, carefully pressing the tacks through the previously made holes so as not to further damage the paper. Kagome spent the entire time kicking herself. He was _obviously_ turning over in his head what she had just said, and the knowledge that he was thinking of her thinking of receiving a proposal mortified her.

              Sesshoumaru led the way out of her room and walked to the genkan, Kagome grabbed her purse and rushed after him, face red with embarrassment. Whyyyyyyy had she said anything? They dressed in their coats and scarves, tucked their feet into their boots, and Kagome fished her keys out of the bottom of her bag.

              As she placed her hand on the doorknob, Sesshoumaru’s reached out and settled on her forearm, stopping her from opening the door. He appeared pensive, retracting her hand when he was satisfied that she would not open it. Kagome opted to wait in silence for him to say what was on his mind. She did not wait long.

              “I have said before that I am not in the habit of associating with humans more than strictly necessary.” He paused, licked his lips. Was he nervous? “As such, I do not… understand you as well as other youkai of your acquaintance perhaps might.”

              Kagome nodded. Was he thinking of Kouga, or Yura? And where was this going?

              “As such, I cannot promise that I will _never_ hurt you.”

_Oh_. Kagome sucked in a breath, heart squeezing in her chest.

              “We cannot know how or… whether this will end,” he said. “There are many differences between us, and there will be multitudinous difficulties which must arise from those differences.” Kagome’s mind jumped back to Rin’s predeceasing Inuyasha, and how her death had affected him. “Despite this, I find that I want to know you. I believe that whatever difficulties may arise, they are not likely to be insurmountable. It pleases me to follow this road where it leads.”

              She felt her throat constrict and her eyes begin to water. It was not a proposal, certainly.

              “Do you not want the same?” He asked, warm golden eyes shining in the lamplight, focused intensely on her face, as though to read her answer in her expression.

              It was not a proposal, but it would do.

              Kagome smiled brilliantly up at him. There was only one answer she could possible give.

              “I think I would like that,” she replied.

              “Then let us depart.”

              There might have been a smile on his face too, then, as he took her hand in his and escorted her out the door.

 

 

-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering what those two bullet points I mentioned before were… my outline for this chapter looked like this: 1. There is a lemon. 2. Also they have sex. So. Mission accomplished?
> 
> All that remains… the epilogue!! Again, I have plans for two related three-shot stories after this one:  
> A Version of this story written from Sesshoumaru’s perspective  
> And  
> A Sequel addressing their relationship and Kagome’s budding powers.  
>  
> 
> Still trying to get a few more opinions on which story would you like to see first, and what would you like to see in each of them. Let me know!
> 
> Expect Chapter 19, the epilogue and final chapter, on 5/25 or 26!
> 
>  
> 
> Footnotes:
> 
> [1] So if you don’t know anything about Japanese writing, there’s three alphabets: hiragana and katakana which are both phonetic (each character has a specific sound), and then kanji, which are logograms, meaning they’re associated with a specific meaning, but can be read multiple different ways. If you see an unfamiliar kanji, it can be fairly hard, and sometimes even impossible to read it.
> 
> [2] Kappo Nakajima. Actual, Michelin-Star rated restaurant in Shinjuku/Tokyo. Went there on our honeymoon… <3 <3 GO EAT THERE if you have some cash and are in the mood for the best kaiseki meal ever. https://savorjapan.com/0006050651/
> 
> [3] That’s really how you celebrate Christmas in Japan. Chicken, cake, shopping, and a date. It’s not a religious, but a lover’s holiday. https://theculturetrip.com/asia/japan/articles/how-to-celebrate-christmas-in-japan/


	19. 残りける月 The Moon Remains / Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally here.

-+-

 

**Omikuji**

Chapter Nineteen

残りける月 The Moon Remains / Epilogue

 

              When her phone chimed, breaking her concentration, Kagome dropped the snowball she was about to throw at her brother. She didn’t need to check the phone to know who it was or what it said. She tried, furtively, to straighten her clothes and fix her hair, but Souta had a radar for opportunities to tease his older sister. “Is that your _boyfriend_?”

              “Yes,” she replied lightly. “He just got here, so I’m off.”

              “Wait—what? Are you serious?” He dropped his snowball, mouth gaping at this news.

              “Don’t tell mom. It’s too early for them to meet,” she added over her shoulder as she dashed around the side of the building. She vaguely heard Souta’s voice as he said “Man, I’ve gotta see _this_ ,” followed by the sound of his footsteps following her out from behind the house.

              The two of them had been taking a break after a harrowing morning of last-minute preparations and cleaning around the shrine to prepare it for the New Year’s celebrations. As a small shrine, it didn’t get too much foot-traffic during any normal given day, but New Year’s Eve and Hatsumoude, the first Shrine visit of the new year, always drew crowds; there were already at least fifty people on the grounds.

              Kagome had arrived at the shrine two days ago in the evening to help with the preparations and visit with her family. It was so hard to leave her little apartment behind. Since Christmas, she and Sesshoumaru had spent every day together, training during the day and playing around at night. Since coming to the shrine, though, she had been so busy that they hadn’t texted much.

              It was only by chance that it turned out that he was coming today. When she texted him last night, describing all the chores she was doing to help the shrine prepare. Included in this list was dusting off the counter where the Omikuji were kept.

              Of course, the moment she started typing that, it dawned on her. She had forgotten to bring it, hadn’t she? Desperately, she searched her luggage, but it was nowhere to be found.

              _Can you do me a favor? When you have time, can you check if that Omikuji fortune is still up on my pinboard?_ She texted him.

              He took less than ten seconds to reply, and what he said surprised Kagome: _It is here._

 _Are you at my house right now?_ She had given him a copy of her apartment key – way too soon for most relationships, but it had seemed the right thing to do when he said that if he ever needed to get in he could just blow the front door down – but she didn’t expect him to actually _use_ it.

              _I am,_ was his reply, followed by, _Did you need this for something?_

              Kagome wanted to ask him _why_ he was there, but she opted to hold on to that question until the next time she saw him, instead. _No, no. It’s fine. I wanted to tie it up to wish it away, just to close the year properly before starting the new one, but it’s fine._ He didn’t understand what that meant, so she had to explain the tradition of tying up a bad fortune to be rid of it, and that it’s something you do right when you _get_ the bad fortune, and not a year later. Which meant she also had to explain why she _hadn’t_ tied it up in the first place. And that even though she didn’t think it was really the fortune’s fault, her year had followed it pretty much to the letter, so she thought it best to get rid of it the proper way, even if it was a bit belated.

              To which his response was simply: _I will take it to you._

Kagome, cheeks pink from her sprint, nose red from the cold, crested the edge of the staircase, a breath of anticipation held in her lungs. Sesshoumaru was coming up the steps to the shrine, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other tapping away at his cellphone. He looked up at her and inclined his head, before his eyes shifted to her right. She looked over.

              Souta was there. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” the impertinent snotface said. “There’s no _way_ that _he’_ s your boyfriend.”

              “Scram, loser,” she hissed at him, though her eyes were trained on Sesshoumaru. The little twitch of his lips upwards was all the indication she needed to be sure that he’d paid attention to that little exchange.

              Souta walked off, still muttering his disbelief.

              When Sesshoumaru stood before her, Kagome wavered. She wasn’t sure if she should hug him, or kiss him, or even touch him at all. They hadn’t had to _greet_ each other since she let him in to her apartment on Christmas morning.

              To her relief, Sesshoumaru solved that problem for her. “Your little brother, I assume?” he asked, putting his hand to her elbow and drawing her a little closer.

              “Yeah,” she grumbled. “He’s a brat.”

              “He’s still watching,” Sesshoumaru murmured, moving his hand up the back of her arm a little. “How little faith he has in you.”

              Kagome laughed. “Like I said. He’s a brat.”

              “Hn.” He leaned in, crossing the distance between them, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

              Kagome’s heart lurched in her chest. “Why were you in my apartment?” she managed to ask, voice breathy, cheeks burning but no longer from the cold, as she placed a hand on the front of his coat.

              “It smelled of you,” was his answer, but he pointedly ignored Kagome’s head exploding, and didn’t pursue that line of conversation any further. Instead, he lead her by the elbow out of the way of the stairs. Kagome glanced back to see that there were a few people starting the climb up. “He seems to be satisfied that you were telling the truth,” Sesshoumaru intoned, eyes in the distance.

              Kagome turned her head to see Souta standing among the crowd, occasionally glancing back at them and then shaking his head and muttering. She giggled. “What’s he saying?”

              “Any one of a number of variations of ‘no way’.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar, wrinkled piece of paper. “Your fortune.”

              “Thank you so much for bringing it,” she said, smiling as she accepted it from his hands. “I really appreciate you going out of your way to do that.”

              He said nothing, instead ushering them further into the crowd. Kagome was surprised; she didn’t really expect him to want to stay. So when he asked, “Shall we sit?” and directed them to an empty bench, she let her happiness shine through.

              The wooden bench was cold, even through the fabric of her coat, and she shivered a little. Sesshoumaru tucked her into his side, arm over her shoulder. She glanced around and saw that Souta was still spying on them. “Aren’t you laying it on a little thick?” she asked.

              He cocked an eyebrow up at her. “Your brother does not know me. He will not find it excessive.”

              She laughed. “I guess I never asked how you felt about PDA. Now I know.”

              “Hn.” He relaxed against the bench, eyes flitting this way and that, watching the crowd.

              She wasn’t ready. She tucked the fortune into her pocket, and then glanced up at Sesshoumaru. “Will you stay awhile?” she asked.

              He tightened his arm around her marginally. “Such was my intention,” he replied.

              They spent the next hour wandering the shrine, arms touching as they walked. Kagome’s guided tour was given half out of excitement and half out of nervousness, but Sesshoumaru bore it with his trademark patience, remaining perfectly silent throughout the tour.

              When they reached her favorite part of the tour, the Goshinboku, with its sprawling branches and sheer size, the look of tolerance on his face changed, and his silence took a different tone. She did not ask him why, though she was dying to. He would tell her if he wanted to.

              They stood together there, for a long time. “Coincidences seem to abound where you are involved. Perhaps it is too weak a word.” He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, but Kagome couldn’t help the confusion on her face, and seeing it apparently prompted him to speak. “This is the tree to which my half-brother was pinned after his betrayal by his first love. It is where he was married to his second, and where he was buried when he passed.”

              “Oh—” she started, and then closed her lips.

              “But perhaps this is not so great a coincidence,” he said, dismissing his previous comments, “as you are the guardian of the Shikon no Tama, which was kept here, was it not?”

              Kagome shook her head slowly. “No. Well, maybe. If this is the shrine where Inuyasha was buried, then it may have been here for a while—it was kept in Edo until it was burned with the body of a Miko who perished while protecting it.”

              “Kikyou,” Sesshoumaru supplied, “the one who pinned him to the tree.”

              “Oh,” she said, putting the pieces together, remembering the passage she read while hospitalized, which the Miko Kaede had written. She looked through her phone for a picture she had taken of the passage, and read him the salient bits. _A young girl, name of Rin, orphaned by the wolf youkai clan of the North, appeared in our humble village. In the morning this day gone past, she was sent to collect some herbs in the vicinity of the Bone-Eaters’ well, and was set upon by a vicious crow demon, who attacked her, gouged through her left side, and in doing so produced the Shikon no Tama itself from her rent flesh. It was by a stroke of luck that the hanyou Inuyasha, who has made the forest near the Bone-Eaters’ Well his domain for the last several hundred years, was nearby – he quelled the beast that attacked the girl Rin and saw to her safe return to the village._

              Kagome knew that theirs was not unique: there had been numerous Bone Eater’s Wells in that time, though few had survived into the present. But still, how had she not made the connection before? “That means that the Bone Eater’s Well in the passage – that when Rin had it torn from her body, she was here when it happened.” She turned that over in her mind. “But I received the Shikon no Tama from my father, who received it from his. His side of the family runs a shrine in Gunma, in the mountains.”

              Sesshoumaru considered. “Again, a coincidence. Rin was born in what would be Gunma today, though it was not commonly known as such in those days. After their marriage, they returned there; I believe she died there as well.”

              “Huh. So my dad just happened to be from the Shrine that inherited its protection after her passing.”

              “As I said. Coincidence might be too weak a word.”

              She looked at him for a long moment. “We’re not related, right?”

              Sesshoumaru snorted. That was a clear enough answer for her. 

              They turned from the tree in unison, walking back toward where the crowd was milling. One of the little pine trees was already beginning to resemble a snow-ball, from all the little white paper fortunes tied to its branches. Kagome reached into her pocket and withdrew her Great Curse.

              Sesshoumaru followed her, watching as she fidgeted with the paper in her hands, realizing that she had never taken the chance to re-read her fortune at the end of the year. She unfolded it, the bolded “Great Curse” at the top immediately catching her eye yet again. She shook her head. This was _last year’s_ fortune.

              She had read through her great curse enough times at this point that she could recite it almost by heart. There was one part that she hadn’t bothered re-reading or committing to memory, though: the waka poem at the beginning, there to augment the meaning of the Omikuji.

_The moon remains_

_its shining now unobscured_

_by leaves on the trees –_

_gone in a storm that has left_

_nothing of autumn behind. [1]_

              She remembered, last year, reading it several times in a row, and absorbing exactly none of it; she had been so preoccupied by the Great Curse and all its particulars. But as she stood here, breathing in the crisp, snow-flavored air and absorbing the warmth of the man she loved beside her, she felt like maybe she could read some meaning into it, now.

              It could be taken at face value—that the changing seasons had brought new perspective, allowing her to see the world around her, and its beauty, for what it was.

              But, maybe it had to do with her powers, blossoming within her and shining brilliantly, the ties that kept them buried within her having been stripped away with her death.

              Or maybe it had something to do with finally being able to see Sesshoumaru for what he was, the farce of his humanity and his rejection of his feelings no longer standing between them.

              She took a deep breath and then, in a burst of quick movement, tied up the fortune to the end of a lonely branch. Her exhalation was deep and shuddering, and accompanied with a sense of lightness and relief that nearly made her head spin.

              Finally, she turned to him, and with a big smile on her face, said what she had been meaning to say since the moment she saw him on the staircase. “ _Akemashite Omedetou_ [2].” Happy new year.

              He did that little huffing thing, as if saying ‘it’s been the new year for a good 12 hours already’, then turned his gaze pointedly to the small line at the counter just beyond the pine.

              She looked over and the nerves fluttered in her stomach anew. “Would you like to draw a new fortune with me?”

              He shook his head. “I’ll wait for you here.”

              Kagome nodded and jogged off to get in line. She didn’t have to wait long.

              When it was her turn, she walked up the counter. _May this be the year that brings happiness like no other!_ she wished, and picked up long octagonal box of Omikuji fortunes. _I need it, after the year I’ve had,_ she added wryly to herself, as she began to jostle it to and fro until a slender, numbered dowel slipped out of the bottom.  _Twenty four_ , she thought. Gently, she pushed the dowel back into the box, and turned to the cabinet of numbered drawers.

              _Twenty-four, twenty-four_. She placed her fingers around the worn wooden knob of the appropriately numbered drawer, and pulled out a sheet of printed paper, precisely folded to conceal the content. She shut the drawer quietly and stepped aside to allow the next person to access the cabinet.

              She sniffled, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping at her nose. It was cold today, her breath puffing in the air before her. It was cold, but she didn’t mind. Winter was the sign that a new beginning was near. Today – New Year’s Day – her new beginning was in her very hand.

              Sesshoumaru walked up to her and looked at her curiously, maybe noticing the suddenly anxious expression on her face. His eyes went to her fingers, anticipating the big reveal. But Kagome wasn’t ready yet. Like she had last year and every year before, she took a fortifying breath and looked over at the placard posted on the gate beside her.

_When you draw good fortune, you should not be careless and arrogant._

_Even if bad fortune, have no fear. Try to be modest and gentle._

_ Whether in good or bad fortune, you should tenaciously do your best. _

_You can carve out your own fortune._

              “Okay,” she uttered aloud, bracing herself. Slowly – ever so slowly – she opened the parchment. She looked past the paper into the air ahead of her until it was completely unfolded. “Okay,” she said again, before letting out a long breath.

              “What does it say?” his resonant voice beside her shattered her concentration.

              Kagome looked down.

              And gasped.

 

~End~

-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s done! Ugh. Wow. It’s over. I’m gonna go cry a little. This is like the first time I’ve finished a multi-chapter story, y’all. I feel like I’ve become an adult for real.
> 
> I know the ending was a little mean (but you may have noticed that I am a little mean?), but I have to leave a little something open-ended, don’t I, since I’m doing a sequelogue three-shot for this puppy, right? By popular demand, I will do the events that follow this story first. Sesshoumaru’s POV for this story will come after that.
> 
> I don’t have any dates for when those babies will start coming out—probably not til late summer, since I’ve got this move coming up and all, and things will be pretty unstable until around August.
> 
> Feel free to pepper me with your hopes and desires for what comes next! I want to know what you want to know about this beautifully awkward little couple.
> 
> Please allow me to say that it has been an honor to share this story with you guys. To those of you who took the time to review and involve yourself with me in the telling of this story—thank you, thank you, thank you; your feedback has helped me to grow as a writer infinitely! To the lurkers who read and enjoyed in silence, thank you to you too, for giving my writing your time and attention.
> 
> And Elizabeth, my beta, and also now my real-life friend, thank you for all of your help and support, your excellent eye and your fabulous ear – a better sounding board I have never had! I love you, girlie. She’s the reason this thing looks as good as it does, guys, for real.
> 
>  
> 
> Footnotes:
> 
> LOLOL REMEMBER WHEN I PROMISED THIS WOULDN’T BE A FOOTNOTE-HEAVY FIC???
> 
> [1] Again, this waka is an English translation of a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable poem by Tonna, which I am excerpting from the book Just Living: Poems and Prose by the Japanese Monk Tonna, by Steven D. Carter. From what I’ve found via copious Googling, this is the original Japanese text:
> 
> 月ぞ猶            (Tsuki zo nao)
> 
> 木の葉くもらで  (Konoha kumora de)
> 
> 残りける          (Nokorikeru)
> 
> 秋のかたみは   (Aki no katami wa)
> 
> とめぬ嵐に      (Tomenu arashi ni)
> 
> [2] Akemashite Omedetou: 明けましておめでとう. It’s fairly equivalent to “Happy New Year”, but it’s something you only say once the new year has begun (the ‘akemashite’ is something like ‘to open’, and marks the beginning of something). You can’t say this, for example, a week before New Year’s Day, for the last time you see someone at work for the year. The reason I left this in instead of just using the gloss, is because it has the nuance of finally starting the New Year, rather than just a generic greeting; sort of like she’s finally finishing the last year (a little late), now that she’s tied up her old fortune.


End file.
